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TOLSTOY 

THE  MAN  AND  HIS  MESSAGE 


>] 


BY 


EDWARD  A.   STEINER 

AUTHOR  OF   "on  THE  TRAIL  oi"  THE  IMMIGRANT," 

"the  mediator,"  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED 


Enlarged  Edition 


NEW   YORK      CHICAGO      TORONTO 

FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 

LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH 


t 


COPYRIGHT,    1908,   BY   FLEMING   H.    REVELL   COMPANY 
COPYRIGHT,    1903,   BY   THE   OUTLOOK   COMPANY 

ALL   RIGHTS    RESERVED 


7 


n 


0 


1 0 


NEW  YORK:  158  "fifth'  AVENUE 
CHICAGO  :  80  WABASH  AVENUE 
TORONTO:  25  RICHMOND  ST.,  W. 
LONDON  :  21  PATERNOSTER  SQUARE 
EDINBURGH:   100   PRINCES    STREET 


Debiration 

"  Marriage  is  an  elevation  for  such  as  we."  —  Tolstoy 

TO  HER  WHO   HAS  MADE   THIS  TRUE   EST  MY  OWN  LIFE,  WHO 
HAS  GLORIFIED   FOR  ME  WOMANHOOD,  WIFEHOOD,  AND 
MOTHERHOOD,  WHO  HAS  BEEN  MY  PATIENT  HELP- 
MEET IN  ALL   OF  LIFE'S  TASKS,   THIS  BOOK, 
WHICH  IS  ONE   OF  THEM,   IS  DEDI- 
CATED  IN  GRATEFUL 
LOVE 


271070 


PRES£aV^ION 
COPY  ADDED 
ORiGlNAL  TO  3E 
RETAINED 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

The  author  of  "  Tolstoy  the  Man/^  Dr.  Edward 
A.  Steiner,  who  occupies  the  professorship  of  Ap- 
pHed  Christianity  in  Iowa  College,  spent  several 
months  in  Russia  at  the  request  of  The  Outlook 
Company  and  under  its  commission  for  the  ex- 
press purpose  of  obtaining  material  for  this  book. 
As  appears  in  his  opening  chapter,  he  renewed  at 
Yasnaya  Polyana,  Tolstoy's  residence,  an  acquaint- 
ance begun  many  years  ago.  Dr.  Steiner  not 
only  had  the  opportunity  of  getting  close  to  the 
personal  and  individual  side  of  his  subject  and 
of  discussing  with  the  great  Russian  writer  and 
teacher  his  life  and  work,  he  brings  also  to  his 
task  a  study  and  appreciation  of  Tolstoy's  char- 
acter and  theories  extending  over  a  long  period. 
He  talked  with  Tolstoy's  intimate  friends  and 
admirers,  was  shown  many  letters  throwing  new 
light  on  Tolstoy's  doctrines  and  practice,  gath- 
ered from  newspapers  and  books,  accessible  only 

vii 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

in  Russia,  a  fund  of  valuable  facts,  visited 
Moscow  to  get  acquainted  with  the  "Tolstoy  cir- 
cle" there,  and  in  short  used  every  effort  to  ob- 
tain all  available  material  for  an  authentic  and 
vivid  memoir.  It  need  hardly  be  pointed  out  that 
the  personality  of  Tolstoy  is  of  intense  interest 
the  world  over,  and  this  without  regard  to  the 
question  whether  readers  do  or  do  not  accept  in 
full  his  social  teachings.  The  many  incidents  and 
anecdotes  here  first  published  cannot  fail  to  add 
to  the  world's  knowledge  of  "  Tolstoy  the  Man." 
The  illustrations  in  the  book  are  in  part  the  work 
of  the  brilliant  young  Russian  artist  Pasternak, 
an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Tolstoy,  who  has  en- 
joyed a  close  intimacy  with  him  and  has  painted 
him  repeatedly  as  he  appears  in  the  family  cir- 
cle. 

The  Publishers. 


Vlll 


PREFACE 

The  monotonous  plain  through  which  the  Dnyper 
winds  its  way  seaward  is  the  cradle  of  the 
Slavic  race.  The  physical  character  of  this  vast 
stretch,  with  its  uninteresting  moor  and  marsh, 
has  impressed  itself  upon  all  the  members  of 
this  widely  scattered  family ;  but  especially  upon 
the  Russian,  who  is  to-day  its  largest  and  most 
important  member.  From  the  lowest  mujik  to 
the  highest  dignitary,  racial  characteristics 
remain  the  same ;  and  beneath  much  apparent 
change  which  wealth  and  culture  have  wrought, 
there  is  among  all  classes  the  unmistakable 
Slavic  element.  The  national  temperament  is 
undisturbed  by  great  passions,  just  as  that 
cradle  land  is  free  from  sudden  mountain 
heights  or  vast  depressions.  Not  unlike  the 
land  is  also  its  history,  which  records  no  grand 
heroic  movements  in  its  early  days.  Without 
song  or  story  the  past  lies  deeply  buried  ;  and 

ix 


PREFACE 

although  the  present  division  of  the  Slavic  peo- 
ple was  not  completed  earlier  than  the  seventh 
century,  history  is  silent,  because  no  doubt  there 
was  nothing  to  tell.  They  were  at  first  peaceful 
hunters,  and  after  exchanging  the  bow  and 
spear  for  the  spade,  they  became  warriors  only 
when  pressed  to  the  fight.  The  later  history 
of  the  Slavic  tribes  which  were  surrounded  or 
subjugated  by  other  races  is  tumultuous  enough ; 
but  in  spite  of  the  invasion  of  Mongol,  of  Swedes, 
and  of  the  French,  the  inner  quiet  of  Russia 
remained  unbroken.  The  heart  of  this  country 
is  like  that  of  the  ocean,  —  unstirred  by  passing 
storms,  —  although  in  Russia  even  the  surface 
never  rose  above  its  appointed  level.  Renaissance 
and  Reformation  alike,  though  they  touched  the 
life  of  Bohemia  and  manifested  themselves  among 
the  Poles  and  Slovaks  locked  in  among  the  cres- 
cent-shaped Carpathians,  passed  unnoticed  over 
the  parent  nation,  Russia.  The  Byzantine  stamp 
which  was  pressed  upon  its  soul  became  a  leaden 
weight  and  the  Church  its  prison-house,  from 
which  neither  life  nor  light  emanated.    The  Ro- 


PREFACE 

man  Church,  while  professing  ardently  its  immu- 
tability, has  given  birth,  though  in  pain,  to  great 
men  who  ushered  in  new  periods ;  but  the  Greek 
Church  remained  barren.  The  masters  of  the 
Church  — the  czars,  the  fathers  of  these  Russian 
children  —  were  themselves  like  spoiled  children 
to  whom  the  people  were  playthings  and  the  plow- 
men toys,  such  as  the  giant  king's  daughter  (of 
whom  Uhland  sings)  gathered  in  her  apron  and 
carried  to  her  father's  castle. 

To  the  Russian  the  nation  is  a  family,  over 
which  rules  the  God-appointed  czar,  whose  yoke 
is  borne  patiently  and  uncomplainingly.  He  alone 
is  capable  of  removing  the  people's  burdens,  and 
what  he  can  accomplish  has  been  shown  by  Peter 
the  Great  and  Alexander  II.,  who  by  a  few  sen- 
tences ushered  in  new  eras  for  their  million- 
headed  family. 

No  one  was  born  from  among  the  people  whose 
voice  or  hand  was  strong  enough  to  rouse  the  na- 
tion from  its  lethargy  or  to  make  the  way  straight 
for  the  coming  of  some  greater  one.  True,  Russia 
gave  birth  to  singers  who  struck  many  a  brave 

xi 


PREFACE 

note,  but  were  either  lured,  like  Pushkin,  into 
some  gilded  cage,  or  died  in  exile,  mute  even  in 
their  last  agony ;  others  were  stimulated  and  in- 
spired by  those  vast  movements  which  changed 
the  political  and  social  life  of  Western  Europe 
and  gave  birth  to  a  new  nation  across  the  sea ; 
but  they  had  no  standing  ground,  no  institu- 
tion or  band  of  men,  —  nothing  to  strengthen 
new-bom  thoughts,  —  and  their  voices  died 
faintly  away.  It  was  thus  with  all  the  Western 
culture,  which,  in  spite  of  passport  regulations 
and  rigid  censorship,  entered  Russia ;  for  it  was 
in  such  great  contrast  to  all  which  the  State, 
the  Church,  and  society  tolerated  that  it  was 
repelled  everywhere,  and  had  no  brooding-place 
except  among  revolutionists,  where  it  exploded, 
rather  than  grew,  into  maturity. 

It  is  true  that  the  Russian  of  the  upper  class 
is  steeped  in  Western  culture ;  but  it  is  also  true 
that  in  a  large  measure  he  has  been  able  to  get 
only  its  surface ;  that  part  of  it  which  he  found 
on  the  boulevards  of  Paris,  on  the  pages  of  the 
inoffensive  ladies^  journals,  or  in  books  which 

xii 


PREFACE 

escaped  the  censor's  critical  eye.  Much  of  so- 
called  Western  culture  came  in  with  morally 
bankrupt  tutors  and  governesses  who  tainted 
the  atmosphere  in  which  the  aristocratic  youth 
developed  and  matured.  One  finds  everywhere 
genuine  culture,  and  often  more  radical  ideas 
than  in  the  West  of  Europe  ;  but  everything  is 
unstable  and  unsteady,  like  isolated  logs  floating 
in  the  Volga,  rather  than  like  those  which  have 
been  hewn,  and  fastened  into  a  building.  Out 
of  this  condition  have  grown  startling  contrasts 
between  thinking  and  acting,  knowing  and 
believing,  between  a  few  who  are  learned  and  the 
vast  mass  of  the  ignorant,  between  those  who 
live  in  excess  and  those  who  have  not  yet  begun 
to  live.  This  state  of  things  makes  the  Russia 
of  to-day  an  enigma;  makes  it,  as  Carl  Emil 
Francois  says,  "Half  Asia,"  neither  Europe  nor 
Asia.  This  makes  it  the  land  of  the  most  revolu- 
tionary and  the  most  reactionary  ideas,  makes 
its  atmosphere  stifling  from  suppressed  silence, 
and  vibrant  from  new-born  thought.  Some  day 
there  will  be  a  page  in  the  history  of  Russia  on 

xiii 


PREFACE 

which  will  be  written  :  "  There  was  a  man  sent 
from  God  whose  name  was  "  —  Tolstoy, — a  man 
who  was  to  break  the  prophetic  silence  of  cen- 
turies, and  who  by  plain  speech  and  in  utter  self- 
forgetfulness  was  to  "make  straight  the  way  of 
the  Lord."  His  coming  and  his  growing  into  such 
prominence  were  not  the  trick  of  genius,  were 
not  the  striking  of  a  golden  vein  which  brought 
fame  and  wealth  to  the  lucky  finder,  but  were 
as  truly  an  historic  event  as  they  were  an  "his- 
toric necessity."  It  is  also  true,  as  Eugen  Schmidt 
says,  "that  Tolstoy  did  not  come  as  a  preacher 
of  morals,  as  a  proclaimer  of  a  few  ethical  max- 
ims which  were  to  change  the  current  of  men's 
lives,  not  as  a  man  who  wanted  to  be  a  good 
example,  not,  certainly,  as  a  philanthropist 
who  gave  to  every  man  who  asked  of  him,  not 
as  a  writer  of  realistic  novels  which  were  to 
curdle  men's  blood  into  coldness  and  decency; 
but  he  came  as  the  proclaimer  of  a  new  philo- 
sophy of  life ;  a  philosophy  diametrically  opposed 
to  both  the  philosophy  of  the  Church  and  of 
modem  science,  and  *in  perfect  harmony  with 

xiv 


PREFACE 

the  philosophy  of  Jesus/  according  to  his  own 
words." 

Tolstoy's  philosophy  is  not  clear  to  others, 
although  many  say  that  it  is  a  great  light;  it 
is  by  nature  both  mystical  and  rationalistic,  both 
conservative  and  radical ;  it  is  both  old  and  very 
new.  While  Tolstoy  has  grown  out  of  conditions 
which  exist  in  his  native  country,  while  in  the 
largest  measure  he  typifies  the  Russia  of  to-day 
in  its  growing  contrasts,  in  its  dissatisfaction  with 
itself,  in  its  spirit  of  cruel  self-examination,  and 
its  religious  nature  and  tendency,  —  he  has  a 
message  for  the  world  which  he  intends  shall 
drive  out  a  civilization  based  upon  barbarism  and 
cruelty;  a  philosophy  of  life  which,  as  he  sees  it, 
is  fundamentally  opposed  to  the  laws  of  nature, 
and  a  religion  which  has  reduced  God  to  the  level 
of  a  Russian  monarch,  degraded  the  Saviour  into 
a  magician  and  the  Bible  into  a  fetish.  He  means 
to  bring  in  a  culture  which  shall  be  free  from 
barbarism,  a  philosophy  of  life  which  shall  be  in 
harmony  with  the  teachings  of  Jesus,  and  a  reli- 
gion which  shall  answer  the  highest  promptings 

XV 


PREFACE 

of  the  soul.  He  came  providentially  into  Russia, 
to  the  Slavs,  the  least  advanced  of  the  civilized 
races,  the  least  spoiled  by  modern  culture ;  he 
came  without  sword  or  staff,  purse  or  scrip,  the 
weakest  among  the  czar's  subjects,  yet  stronger 
than  the  czar ;  and  because  he  fights  not  with 
carnal  weapons  he  is  gaining  victories  for  which 
generations  might  have  bled  in  vain. 

Some  people  may  read  this  book  because  they 
wish  to  see  the  man  Tolstoy,  colossal  giant  that 
he  is ;  and  I  shall  try  to  draw  him  as  I  have  seen 
him,  and  as  he  has  impressed  others  who  came 
to  him  in  different  moods  and  for  other  purposes. 
A  smaller  number  will  wish  to  find  some  key  to 
his  many  writings,  some  brief  account  of  their 
form,  contents,  and  spirit,  and  I  shall  try  to  sat- 
isfy this  demand ;  the  smallest  number  will  come 
here  to  read  about  his  philosophy  and  his  mes- 
sage. This  last  desire,  too,  I  shall  try  to  fulfill, 
although  it  is  the  hardest  of  my  tasks.  The  truth 
is,  that  to  do  justice  to  the  life  of  this  man,  one 
must  touch  upon  all  these  phases ;  for  they  are 
part  of  his  life.   The  man  is  in  his  books,  and  in 

xvi 


PREFACE 

every  line  of  them  is  his  philosophy ;  one  cannot 
separate  them,  and  yet  to  present  them  together 
is  a  task  before  which  a  stronger  one  than  my- 
self might  tremble.  But  hard  though  the  work 
may  be,  it  is  entered  into  with  joy,  because  it 
brings  the  writer  again  in  touch  with  one  who  is 
too  great  to  be  called  friend,  yet  who  is  lowly 
enough  to  call  himself  brother. 

That  I  may  not  dim  his  glory,  and  yet  not 
unduly  exalt  him,  that  I  may  not  misrepresent 
him  and  yet  truthfully  present  him  to  view,  that 
I  may  satisfy  the  curious  and  yet  bring  them 
nearer  to  the  source  of  the  teachings  of  Tolstoy, 
which  is  the  Gospel  of  Jesus, — is  my  only  desire. 

My  acknowledgments  are  due  to  Director 
Raphael  Loewenf  eld,  of  Berlin,  who  placed  at  my 
disposal  his  unsurpassed  collection  of  Tolstoyana 
and  who  marked  out  the  channels  for  obtaining 
new  and  valuable  material  both  in  St.  Peters- 
burg and  in  Moscow;  to  Eugen  Schmidt,  of 
Buda-Pesth,  who  has  systematized  the  teachings 
of  Tolstoy  in  his  remarkable  book  "The  Cultural 
Mission  of  Tolstoy ; "  to  Mr.  Pavel  Ettinger  and 

xvii 


PREFACE 

to  various  members  of  the  editorial  staff  of  the 
"  Rusky  Wyedomosty,"  of  Moscow,  and  to  many 
friends  in  various  parts  of  Russia  who  have  given 
me  valuable  advice  and  encouragement  when  both 
were  needed ;  above  all,  to  Mr.  George  Kennan, 
who  is  gratefully  remembered  by  all  thoughtful 
Russians,  regardless  of  their  political  creed,  as 
"The  Apostle  of  Russia's  prison  reform"  and  by 
whose  thorough  knowledge  of  Russia  and  Russian 
affairs  this  book  has  profited  as  well  as  by  his 
generous  and  always  correct  criticism. 

E.  A.  S. 

Moscow,  March  1,  1903. 


XVlll 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION 

A  NEW  edition  of  this  work  being  called  for,  it 
seemed  appropriate  to  issue  it  upon  the  anniver- 
sary of  Tolstoy's  eightieth  birthday.  To  this  end 
I  have  once  again  been  permitted  to  visit  "  this 
Matterhom  among  men,  Tolstoy,"  and  appended 
to  the  original  work  will  be  found  a  glimpse  of 
Tolstoy  at  Eighty. 

More  than  ever,  Tolstoy  has  become  the  chief 
religious  person  of  this  age.  The  circle  of  those 
who  have  caught  his  vision,  and  who  have  not 
been  disobedient  to  it,  is  growing  larger,  and 
larger  still  is  the  circle  of  those  who  desire  to 
know  what  manner  of  man  this  is,  and  who  need 
to  know  it.  I  may  as  well  state  here  that  I  am 
not  a  Tolstoyan,  but  that  I  wish  I  were ;  that  I 
do  not  belong  to  any  inner  circle,  if  such  exists ; 
that  I  am  only  one  of  the  many  to  whom  he  has 
broken  the  bread  of  life  in  this  religion-hungry 
age,  and  that,  with  others,  I  may  have  erred  in 
telling  how  he  does  it. 

xix 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION 

Although  his  Hf  e  has  been  such  an  open  one, 
so  self -revealed  in  all  he  has  said  and  written ; 
still,  in  pointing  out  just  where  he  does  this  most 
clearly,  this  book  has  been  of  some  service,  and 
that  it  may  become  increasingly  so  is  my  one 
desire. 

E.  A.  S. 
Melsicz,  Hungary,  September  10,  1908. 


XX 


CONTENTS 

I.    TOLSTOY  TO-DAY I 

II.   CHILDHOOD  AND  SCHOOL  LIFE  ...      21 
III.   THE  LANDED  PROPRIETOR      ....      45 

rv.   THE  CAUCASUS   .      .      . 56 

V.  SEBASTOPOL 72 

VI.   IN  ST.   PETERSBURG 88 

VII.   TOLSTOY'S  FIRST  VISIT  ABROAD       .      .    lOI 
VIII.   TOLSTOY'S  SECOND  AND  THIRD  JOURNEYS 

ABROAD .114 

IX.   TOLSTOY'S  MARRIAGE  AND  FAMILY  UFE    135 
X.  TOLSTOY  AS  PEDAGOGUE 154 

XL  "war  and  peace" 172 

xiL  "anna  KARENINA" 187 

Xni.   TOLSTOY'S  CONFESSION   AND   CONVER- 
SION      198 

XIV.   THE  LIFE  AS  AN  INFLUENCE     .      .      .213 

XV.   IN  THE  HEART  OF  RUSSIA     .      .      .      .229 

XVI.   THE  TEACHINGS  OF  TOLSTOY     ...    248 

XVn.   THE  MISUNDERSTOOD  TOLSTOY  .      .      .272 

XVin.   TOLSTOY'S     LITERARY     ACTIVITIES    AT 

THE   CLOSE   OF    THE    NINETEENTH 

CENTURY 293 

XIX.   TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 309 

XX.   TOLSTOY  AT  EIGHTY 33O 

xxi 


LIST  OP  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING  PAGE 

TOLSTOY  AT  WORK  IN  HIS  STUDY  Title 

TOLSTOY  TO-DAY 1 8 

YASNAYA  POLYANA 40 

TOLSTOY  AT  WORK  ON  HIS  FARM  ....      62 

TOLSTOY'S  HOME  IN  MOSCOW 84 

FROM  THE  STATION  TO  YASNAYA  POLYANA.      96 

COUNTESS  TOLSTOY II 8 

LEO  TOLSTOY,  JR 1 40 

IN  THE  FAMILY  CIRCLE.      HERE  HE    DREAMS 

GREAT  DREAMS  AND  DISCUSSES   THEM     .    1 46 

MARIA  LEVOVNA 150 

TATYANA  LEVOVNA 1 78 

COUNT  LEO  TOLSTOY 200 

DRAWING  THE  FURROW   OVER  RUSSIA'S   UN- 
RESPONSIVE  SOIL 220 

ENTRANCE  TO  YASNAYA  POLYANA  .      .      .      .256 
ON    THE    VILLAGE    STREET    HE    MEETS    THE 

MUJIK,   HIS   BROTHERS 263 

COUNT  TOLSTOY  AND  HIS  DISCIPLE  AND  FOL- 
LOWER TSHERTKOFF 268 

COUNTESS      TOLSTOY      AND     THE     YOUNGER 

CHILDREN 298 

A  RECENT  PORTRAIT 316 

xxii 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

CHAPTER  I 

TOLSTOY  TO-DAY 

Twenty  years  ago  there  came  into  the  rational- 
istic atmosphere  of  a  German  college  the  influ- 
ence of  a  Russian  novel  which  meant  much  to 
a  group  of  young  men  who  had  thought  God  out 
of  existence  and  had  buried  Christianity  with 
all  other  religious  superstitions.  While  religion 
seemed  dead  around  them,  it  still  was  living 
within  them,  and  the  call  to  an  heroic  expression 
of  it  in  Tolstoy's  "  War  and  Peace  "  awakened 
long  slumbering  thoughts  and  new  and  vital 
desires. 

There  must  be  something  innate  in  human 
nature  which  sends  men  upon  pilgrimages,  for 
the  first  wish  which  the  students  expressed  while 
the  joy  of  the  new-found  truth  had  not  yet  spent 
itself,  was  to  go  to  Moscow  and  see  and  hear 
the  man  who  had  saved  them  from  losing  a  pre- 
cious possession,  and  who  had  given  to  them  a 
new  interpretation  of  life  and  of  the  Lifegiver. 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

The  young  men  had  time,  but  little  money,  so 
the  journey  had  to  be  made  on  foot,  the  long, 
most  interesting  trip  taking  them  through  the 
heart  of  the  Slavic  world.  When  they  knocked 
at  the  hospitable  door  of  Count  Tolstoy^s  house  in 
Moscow  they  looked  more  like  tramps  than  stu- 
dents, and  the  welcome  from  the  servants  and 
from  some  members  of  his  family  was  such  as 
to  send  the  autumn  chill  of  the  unpicturesque 
entrance  hall  into  their  exalted  feeling.  When 
the  Count  himself  opened  the  door  of  the  living- 
room,  where  the  samovar  sang  and  the  fire 
crackled  while  the  smoke  of  cigarettes  was  thick 
and  seductive,  there  came  with  him  a  warm  air 
and  a  warmer  welcome.  He  was  in  the  prime  of 
life,  at  the  height  of  his  literary  fame  in  Russia, 
and  the  larger  world  was  beginning  to  grow 
conscious  of  him. 

Our  admiration  of  Tolstoy  grew  no  less  be- 
cause of  our  close  contact  with  him,  and  the 
spell  by  which  he  enthralled  us  has  remained 
a  valued  .and  abiding  possession  to  some  of  us. 
Neither  life  nor  death  seemed  the  same  thing 
afterwards,  although  our  minds  were  too  imma- 
ture fully  to  grasp  his  teaching  and  the  life  of 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

pleasure  was  too  alluring  to  put  it  off  for  the 
life  of  labor. 

Three  times  this  pilgrimage  was  made  by  me 
in  maturer  years,  and  each  time  the  welcome 
was  more  cordial  and  the  admission  into  Tolstoy's 
inner  life  more  generous.  These  visits  brought 
with  them  the  privilege  of  meeting  the  men  and 
women  who  see  in  Tolstoy  not  only  an  author 
and  a  famous  man  but  their  great  teacher  and 
the  revealer  of  a  new  philosophy  of  life. 

The  winter  of  1903  was  spent  in  close  rela- 
tion with  this  circle,  and  while  the  bond  with 
Tolstoy  himself  was  less  intimate,  this  was  due 
to  the  fact  that  the  news  of  his  serious  illness 
checked  the  desire  of  the  artist  and  biographer 
to  urge  their  presence  upon  him,  and  only  after 
we  heard  that  his  condition  had  improved  did 
we  venture  our  request.  "  Come  and  bring  N. 
with  you,"  read  the  telegram  which  we  received 
in  answer  to  our  letter.  N.  is  a  musician  of  note, 
and  the  feeling  that  through  his  playing  Tolstoy 
would  receive  much  pleasure  made  our  going 
easier,  for  usually  we  felt  that  we  gave  nothing 
in  return  for  the  inspiration  received. 

To  start  from  Moscow  at  midnight,  to  be  locked 
3 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

in  a  train  whose  compartments  are  so  hot  that 
they  can  well  serve  the  purpose  of  a  Russian 
bath,  to  inhale  cigarette  smoke  which  every- 
where makes  the  atmosphere  stale  and  thick,  is 
no  great  pleasure,  especially  as  the  train  stops 
longer  at  the  stations  than  it  travels  between 
them,  and,  being  the  only  so-called  fast  train,  is 
uncomfortably  crowded.  No  air  either  enters  or 
leaves  the  compartment,  and  when  we  reach 
our  destination,  and  can  really  breathe  the  fresh, 
ozone-laden  air,  it  is  as  exhilarating  a  moment 
as  if  we  had  stepped  from  a  prison  cell  into 
freedom.  The  little  depot  is  almost  covered  by 
snow,  and  after  being  wakened  for  a  moment 
by  the  stopping  of  the  train  it  sinks  again  into 
the  deepest  quiet.  Here  and  there  from  among 
the  white  birches  the  rising  smoke  tells  of  some 
mujik's  cabin  in  which  the  housewife  has  be- 
stirred herself  and  has  kindled  the  fire.  The 
horse  and  sleigh  of  Countess  Tolstoy  are  await- 
ing us  in  the  station  yard,  and  almost  simul- 
taneously we  ask  the  coachman,  "  How  is  the 
Count  ? ''  "  Slava  Bogu  [Praise  God],  he  is  much 
better,"  answers  the  faithful  servant,  whose 
broad,  good-natured  face  smiles  at  us  from  his 

4 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

wrappings  of  fur,  which  make  him  look  like  an 
overgrown  infant  ready  to  be  carried  away  by 
its  nurse.  He  remembers  the  Count's  guests,  and 
has  a  particular  smile  for  those  who  know  that 
Tolstoy's  philosophy  about  money  has  not  at  all 
influenced  his  servants,  who  are  just  as  eager 
for  their  tips  (na  tschay)  as  if  they  were  living 
in  the  most  materialistic  atmosphere.  Swiftly 
we  glided  along  through  the  increasing  quiet ; 
the  noise  of  the  passing  train  had  almost  ceased, 
and  its  deep  breathing  grew  fainter  and  fainter. 
From  the  east  a  tinge  of  golden  red  poured  over 
the  silvery  landscape  ;  for  a  moment  there  was 
a  hovering  between  twilight  and  morning,  then 
the  sun  rose,  bringing  light  but  no  warmth,  and 
the  great  conqueror  who  in  the  summer  colors 
earth  and  skies  in  varied  hue  seemed  unable  to 
affect  the  mass  of  white  or  to  change  the  great 
shroud  into  a  wedding-garment.  The  noisy  crows 
alone  made  dark  spots  upon  the  landscape  and 
brought  discord  and  disturbance  into  silence  and 
harmony.  No  one  in  the  village  had  yet  stirred 
out  of  doors ;  the  peasants  were  still  lying  upon 
their  warm  bake-ovens  hibernating  until  the 
spring-time,  when  the  increasing  hunger  would 

5 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

drive  them  out  of  doors  and  press  the  plow  into 
their  hands.  The  snow  lay  up  to  the  windows 
of  the  low  cabins,  which  were  kept  from  being 
lost  in  the  colorless  landscape  by  the  dirt  of 
doors  and  outer  walls.  Horses,  cattle,  and  fowl 
were  indoors  with  the  peasants,  and  within  many 
a  hut  was  heard  the  faint  cock-crow,  followed 
by  the  grunting  of  an  unfed  pig  or  the  hoof- 
beat  of  a  restless  horse.  From  above  the  snow, 
like  strange -shaped  mushrooms,  peeped  with 
their  Chinese  roofs  the  white  towers  flanking 
the  gateway  to  the  Tolstoy  estate,  and  the  trunks 
df  the  trees  within  made  dark  lines  upon  the 
whiteness,  showing  the  well-worn  road  between 
them.  At  the  door  we  were  met  by  Maria  Le- 
vovna,  the  Count's  favorite  daughter,  who  has 
been  constantly  at  his  bedside,  and  who  at  this 
time  was  acting  as  his  private  secretary  and  is 
his  confidential  friend.  Among  the  Count's  chil- 
dren the  daughters  had  the  greatest  sympathy 
with  his  teachings,  although  since  they  have 
married  they  have  gone  the  way  of  the  world, 
much  to  his  regret. 

When  we  arrived.  Countess  Tolstoy  was  still 
in  her  room ;  she  rises  very  late,  her  work  keep- 

6 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

ing  her  up  until  past  midnight.  She  is  now 
correcting  a  new  edition  of  her  husband's  works, 
and  between  the  struggle  with  publishers  and 
proof-readers  she  is  taxed  to  the  utmost,  al- 
though she  preserves  both  her  youth  and  strength 
to  a  remarkable  degree.  Any  one  who  saw  her 
a  few  evenings  before  at  the  symphony  concert 
in  Moscow,  radiant  in  a  light  gray  silk  costume, 
her  bright  eyes  shining  from  pleasure,  would 
not  have  realized  how  much  work  and  how  many 
years  are  burdening  her. 

We  were  immediately  shown  to  our  rooms, 
but  great  was  our  astonishment  when  we  found 
one  of  them  to  be  the  Count's  former  study, 
which  had  been  converted  into  a  guest-room 
after  his  removal  upstairs  was  necessitated  by 
his  severe  illness.  Mr.  P.  immediately  called  an 
indignation  meeting  to  protest  against  such  sac- 
rilege, and  we  unanimously  declared  our  disap- 
proval of  the  change.  The  room  should  have 
been  kept  as  it  was.  Those  scattered  books,  that 
table  full  of  loose  pages  of  manuscript,  the 
large  ink-pot,  the  Count's  picturesque  but  crude 
scythe,  and  his  working  garments — all  are  gone ; 
the  books  are  transferred  to  book-cases,  where 

7 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

they  stand  like  soldiers  in  perfect  order,  and  our 
unpoetic  satchels  lie  upon  the  table  where  he 
wrote  all  the  books  which  made  him  famous. 
Surely  there  will  be  no  holy  shrine  to  which  en- 
thusiastic Tolstoyans  may  make  a  pilgrimage  in 
after  years,  for  the  devastation  seems  complete. 
A  physician  who  now  is  a  member  of  the  house- 
hold lives  in  the  Count's  former  bedroom,  but 
the  simple  furniture  has  been  left  just  as  it  was. 
At  the  breakfast-table  we  find  the  usual  con- 
tingent of  strangers,  and  we  look  at  one  another 
in  rather  an  unfriendly  way,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  What  in  the  world  brought  you  here  to  trouble 
a  poor  old  sick  man — can't  you  leave  him  alone  ?  " 
We  are  good  mind-readers,  all  of  us,  and  we 
stare  at  each  other  during  the  informal  meal, 
drinking  our  hot  tea  in  silence  ;  and  no  friend- 
lier look  comes  over  the  faces  of  these  some- 
bodies and  nobodies  when  our  party  is  asked  to 
go  upstairs  to  see  the  Count.  The  room  which 
we  enter  is  spacious  and  comfortable  ;  two  large 
windows  look  out  over  the  tree-tops  and  upon 
the  silent  fields  of  Yasnaya.  The  eye  instinct- 
ively seeks  the  Count,  and  we  are  much  star- 
tled as  we  see  him.   He  is  so  thin  that  his  features 

8 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

stand  out  with  unusual  sharpness.  The  eyes  are 
still  searching,  but  show  the  effect  of  much  suf- 
fering, and  a  veil  like  the  shadow  of  a  passing 
cloud  hangs  over  them.  His  voice,  too,  has  grown 
weak,  and  his  hand-clasp  is  like  the  touch  of 
gloved  fingers,  without  warmth  or  strength ;  but 
the  greeting  is  not  less  cordial  than  ever.  Now, 
struggling  with  approaching  death,  he  is  fasten- 
ing upon  paper  memories  and  impressions  of  by- 
gone years,  and  when  every  moment  is  precious 
he  yet  denies  himself  to  no  one,  and  does  not 
stint  the  time  which  he  gives  to  his  friends.  It  is 
such  a  large  welcome  as  only  a  large  soul  can 
give  one.  It  is  in  striking  contrast  to  the  wel- 
come which  one  receives  from  every  other  mem- 
ber of  his  household.  Every  one,  from  the  Count- 
ess down  to  the  guests  of  yesterday,  makes  you 
feel  that  you  are  here  by  grace  alone,  but  he 
makes  you  feel  immediately  that  you  have  done 
him  a  favor  by  coming.  It  is  this  natural  and 
grateful  outflow  of  his  noble  soul  toward  another 
that  charms  every  one  who  comes  in  touch  with 
him.  Yet  I  cannot  say  that  one  feels  comfort- 
able so  close  to  him.  He  searches  too  deeply. 
He  penetrates  down  to  the  impurest  motive 

9 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

which  brought  you  here,  and  you  feel  as  if  you 
were  a  thief  caught  in  the  act  of  breaking  one 
of  the  commandments.  I  find  that  all  those  who 
come  "  in  spirit  and  in  truth ''  share  this  feeling 
with  me,  and  I  should  not  wonder  if  in  the 
other  world  I  see  him  sitting  on  one  of  those 
twelve  thrones  "  judging  the  tribes  of  Israel." 

The  conversation  first  turned  upon  his  own 
health.  He  has  been  near  death's  door ;  the 
heart  almost  ceased  its  task  of  sending  blood 
through  his  body,  the  limbs  were  cold  and  mo- 
tionless, and  around  his  bedside  through  many 
an  anxious  night  stood  loving  watchers  who 
feared  the  coming  of  a  lightless  morning.  But 
no  fear  was  his ;  he  was  not  being  dragged  to 
his  grave.  Calmly  he  awaited  the  moment  of 
his  departure,  and  he  struggled  neither  for  life 
nor  with  death.  He  dropped  no  pious  phrases 
as  he  told  us  of  his  nearness  to  the  other  world ; 
it  was  the  story  of  a  traveler  who  came  near 
to  the  gate  of  a  city  whose  name  and  loca- 
tion he  knew  not,  but  of  the  existence  of  which 
he  was  quite  sure.  He  did  not  tell  as  much 
of  himself  as  we  should  have  liked  to  hear; 
he  quickly  turned  the  conversation  to  the  art- 

lO 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

ist's  and  writer's  work  and  plans,  to  N/s  chil- 
dren, whom  he  loves,  and  to  all  the  living  things 
which  interest  him  so  much.  The  praise  of  Yas- 
naya's  quiet  he  turned  into  a  sarcastic  denuncia- 
tion of  the  effort  in  the  cities  to  build  houses  of 
entertainment  for  the  laborers.  "  You  take  them 
out  of  the  pure  air  into  a  place  crowded  by  peo- 
ple, you  compel  them  to  breathe  dust,  dirt,  and 
disease,  and  you  call  that  helping  the  poor  to 
enjoy  themselves."  My  praise  of  the  People's 
Palace  in  St.  Petersburg,  built  by  the  present 
czar,  found  no  echo  in  his  heart.  He  does  not 
believe  in  "throwing  sweet  morsels  to  a  starv- 
ing peasantry,"  although  he  was  glad  to  hear  of 
my  observation  of  increasing  temperance,  or  at 
least  of  a  decrease  of  drunkenness,  in  the  Rus- 
sian cities  where  the  dives  have  been  entirely 
closed  and  people's  theaters  and  tea-houses  have 
taken  their  places. 

Upon  our  inquisitive  looks  at  his  writing-desk, 
he  told  us  that  he  was  then  hard  at  work  writ- 
ing his  reminiscences,  and  that  he  had  finished 
a  new  story  based  upon  his  experiences  in  the 
Caucasus,  and  he  read  us  page  after  page  of  the 
simple  but  beautiful  narrative  from  his  life  in 

II 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

those  wild  mountain  regions.  His  style  seems 
simpler  than  ever ;  clear  and  sharp  stand  out 
his  characters.  The  background  is  faint,  scarcely 
touched,  but  the  men  and  women  whom  he  por- 
trays are  alive,  and  the  truth  they  speak  is  clear 
and  their  words  are  pure.  They  are  created  by 
his  love  for  all  the  men  he  met  and  knew  in 
those  young  years  of  his  eventful  life. 

The  manuscript  is  as  unreadable  as  ever,  and 
Maria  Levovna  had  to  be  called  upon  to  decipher 
those  passages  in  which  her  father's  pen  had 
tangled  the  thought  of  the  story  by  successive 
corrections.  He  was  greatest  and  most  precious 
when  he  laid  down  the  manuscript  and  began  to 
tell  of  his  own  feelings  and  emotions  in  those 
days.  How  little  he  spares  himself !  he  gathers 
up  every  scrap  of  the  past,  even  if  by  so  doing 
he  tarnishes  his  halo ;  but  he  tells  truth  and 
loves  truth,  even  if  truth  makes  him  unlovely. 

We  know  now  that  the  stories  of  his  child- 
hood and  youth  which  were  the  first  products  of 
his  pen  were  not  entirely  autobiographical ;  that, 
in  fact,  they  contained  much  which,  while  it 
grew  in  him,  he  did  not  experience  in  actual 
life.   He  made  us  all  laugh  by  telling  the  story 

12 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

of  his  first  dancing-lesson.  He  was  so  ungrace- 
ful that  the  dancing-master  tied  a  stick  of  wood 
to  his  legs  to  make  them  stand  out  straight. 
"I  could  make  better  use  of  that  stick  of  wood 
now,"  he  said,  pointing  to  his  limbs,  which  were 
wrapped  in  a  blanket.  "But  I  shall  surprise 
you  to-morrow.  I  shall  go  for  a  walk." 

After  dinner,  N.  was  asked  to  play.  The  poor 
musician  was  so  nervous  that  he  had  scarcely 
eaten  anything,  and  when  he  sat  down  to  the 
piano  he  fairly  trembled  from  stage  fright. 
First  on  the  programme  were  Tolstoy's  old  fa- 
vorites, Gliick,  Brahms,  and  Handel.  "  They  are 
so  quiet,"  he  says  ;  "  their  passion  was  lofty  and 
never  base."  Mozart  came  next,  and  charmed 
him  most,  for  he  loves  him  above  all  the  com- 
posers. He  never  stirs  the  evil  and  the  low 
within  us,"  he  says  of  him;  "and  when  he 
touches  the  emotions,  he  does  it  with  delicacy 
and  purity."  Chopin  Tolstoy  enjoys  very  much, 
and  among  Slavic  composers  he  finds  him  the 
most  sympathetic.  During  the  playing  of  one  of 
Beethoven's  sonatas  he  grew  visibly  agitated ; 
and  that  much-condemned  "  Kreutzer  Sonata  "  he 
heard  with  pleasure.  Schumann's  songs  brought 

13 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

tears  to  his  eyes.  "  It  touched  my  heart  so,"  he 
said,  in  excuse  for  his  seeming  weakness. 

What  a  rapt  listener  he  is,  this  iconoclast  of 
art !  how  every  fiber  of  his  being  responds  to  it, 
how  he  draws  it  in  and  how  it  intoxicates  him ! 
He  knows,  as  did  the  Hebrew  prophets,  how  art 
itself  may  become  man's  temple  and  his  God, 
and  he  fights  against  his  natural  devotion  to  it, 
fearing  that  it  might  lure  him  from  the  narrow 
path  which  he  has  marked  out  for  himself. 

Long  after  the  piano  has  echoed  its  last  vibrant 
note  we  sit  in  silence  and  musa  The  snowflakes 
fall  thick  and  fast  upon  the  already  heavy-laden 
tree-tops,  and  it  is  winter  without  and  within. 
The  Count  sits  with  his  head  sunk  over  his  breast, 
the  fingers  of  both  hands  pressed  against  each 
other,  and  tears  in  his  eyes.  Schumann's  "Du 
bist  die  Ruh  "  has  brought  them  out  of  his  heart. 
Quiet,  quiet  everywhere  but  in  our  hearts ;  and 
is  there  quiet  in  his  now  that  he  is  snowed  in  by 
old  age  and  feels  the  approach  of  death  ?  With 
peace  upon  his  brow,  there  is  also  much  pain, 
and  such  furrows  seam  his  face  as  no  other  plow- 
man draws  but  he  who  comes  with  labor  and 
with  tears.    The  glow  of  artistic  success,  the 

14 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

gratitude  of  those  whom  he  has  helped  into  the 
light,  —  these  ought  to  make  the  evening  of  his 
pilgrimage  glorious.  Yet  each  life  has  its  trage- 
dies, and  those  of  us  who  know  realize  that  he 
will  carry  to  the  yonder  side  some  great  sorrows. 
His  tears  are  for  a  little  boy,  "Vantshek,"  as 
they  called  him,  the  only  one  of  his  thirteen  chil- 
dren into  whom  seemed  to  have  been  breathed 
the  same  spirit  by  which  he  was  filled  by  the 
Creator.  The  little  one  looked  into  the  world 
with  the  same  clear  eyes  as  did  his  father,  and 
clung  to  him  conscious  of  that  inner  relation- 
ship, the  kinship  of  the  soul.  He  died.  The  hurt 
in  the  father's  heart  seemed  healed  ;  but  out  of 
the  treasure  of  song  which  Schumann  gave  to  the 
world,  and  to  which  he  listened  that  afternoon, 
there  came  one  tenderest  note  and  tore  open  the 
old  bleeding  wound.  Strangers  crowd  his  door- 
way asking  his  blessing,  and  go  out  into  the  world 
to  live  as  he  has  taught  them ;  strangers  listen 
with  reverence  to  each  one  of  his  words  and  be- 
come his  disciples ;  but  among  his  own  there  is 
none  to  preach  his  message  or  to  live  it.  No  com- 
plaint has  ever  passed  his  lips,  and  the  tragedy 
of  his  heart  has  no  witness  except  his  own  great 

15 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

soul,  which  has  taught  itself  to  love,  and  in  love 
to  suffer. 

His  philosophy  of  life  has  not  changed,  his  be- 
lief in  the  efficacy  of  Christ's  law  for  the  salva- 
tion of  man  and  of  society  is  as  firm  as  ever,  and 
his  theological  views  have  still  the  same  agnostic 
ring ;  but  he  knows  God,  prays  to  God,  loves  God, 
and  truly  "loves  his  neighbor  as  himself,"  and 
does  not  ask,  "  Who  is  my  neighbor  ?  "  It  would 
belittle  those  great  hours  to  tell  all  that  he  said 
and  how  he  said  it,  to  narrate  his  condemnations 
or  write  down  what  he  approved.  This  was  no 
day  for  a  biographer  to  make  notes  or  an  artist 
to  make  sketches,  but  it  was  a  day  for  men  to 
look  into  the  great  heart  of  one  of  God's  great 
men. 

Russia  knows  no  spring.  April  is  still  only  win- 
ter painted  green,  and  then  all  at  once  it  is  sum- 
mer. Long,  not  over-straight  furrows  are  being 
drawn  upon  the  great  fields  which  surround  Yas- 
naya  Polyana.  Patient  mujiks  are  led  across  the 
fertile  acres  by  the  more  patient  if  not  more  in- 
telligent horses ;  and  where  the  wooden  harrow 
has  glided  over  the  clods,  women  beat  them  into 

i6 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

dust.  A  horseman  comes  from  between  the  white- 
washed towers,  and  the  peasants  say  one  to 
another,  "Praise  God,  it  is  our  master."  It  is  a 
long  time  since  they  have  seen  him,  and  a  longer 
time  since  they  have  seen  him  on  horseback.  The 
rider  of  fast  horses  who  renounced  that  luxury 
years  ago,  and  walked  many  a  hundred  miles, 
had  been  lifted  by  servants  into  the  saddle,  as 
he  had  been  lifted  a  few  months  ago  from  volun- 
tary hardship  into  involuntary  ease. 

The  aristocratic  peasant  has  become  an  aristo- 
cratic invalid,  and  the  man  who  struggled  for 
years  against  the  conditions  in  which  he  was  born 
will  die  in  the  same  conditions,  a  prisoner  to  en- 
vironment. He  deplores  it,  mourns  over  it,  and 
laments  over  an  unreached  ideal.  He  still  envies 
the  peasant,  who,  after  a  hard  life,  will  lie  down 
upon  his  bake-oven  and  die  a  happy  death  ;  but 
as  little  as  Tolstoy  could  live  just  like  a  peasant, 
so  little  can  he  die  like  one.  If  he  had  the  strength, 
he  would  now,  in  spite  of  the  commands  and  the 
entreaties  of  his  physician  and  his  wife,  take  the 
handle  of  the  wooden  plow  and  follow  it  across 
the  fragrant  upturned  sod.  I  venture  to  say: 
"  Count,  you  have  done  your  plowing ;  you  have 

17 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

drawn  a  straighter  furrow  and  a  longer  one  right 
across  Russia  and  into  the  heart  of  Europe  and 
the  New  World ; "  but  the  man  who  all  his  life 
has  believed  in  his  power  of  achievement  shakes 
his  head  doubtfully  as  he  views  the  work  he  has 
done. 

The  sower  follows  the  plowman  and  the  women 
who  beat  the  clods  into  dust.  Majestically,  rhyth- 
mically, and  slowly  he  walks  across  the  black, 
rich  earth,  casting  his  seed,  more  worshipful  than 
the  village  priest  who  scatters  incense  for  more 
or  less  holy  purposes.  The  sower  carries  his  seed 
in  a  white  linen  sheet  which  hangs  from  his  shoul- 
der, and  he  thrusts  his  hand  into  it  as  does  an 
artist  his  brush  into  his  colors,  or  a  generous  man 
his  fingers  into  his  treasury.  With  wistful  eyes 
Tolstoy  follows  his  movements,  quite  unconscious 
of  the  fact  that  he  has  been  sowing  more  precious 
seed  upon  larger  fields ;  but  if  you  call  his  atten- 
tion to  this,  he  will  say,  "The  best  of  it  was  only 
chaff."  Yet  undisguised  pleasure  shows  itself  in 
his  face  when  one  speaks  of  his  influence  which 
has  gone  over  the  whole  world.  This  very  spring 
two  American  millionaires  came,  repeating  the 
words  of  the  rich  young  ruler  and  receiving  the 

i8 


Drawn  by  I^.  Pasternak 


TOLSTOY   TO-DAY 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

same  answer,  but  not  going  "  away  sorrowful." 
Each  day  brings  tidings  of  new  fields  upon  which 
the  seed  has  fallen,  each  day  brings  some  ripened 
fruit,  some  apostles,  more  disciples,  admirers 
most  of  all.  If  you  speak  to  him  of  this,  he  will 
answer,  "  Thus  I  know  that  His  word  is  truth." 
Yet  he  envies  the  sower  with  his  white  sheet 
and  his  golden  seed.  "That  man  will  die  with 
nothing  to  regret  and  everything  to  expect,"  he 
says,  and  he  would  willingly  change  places  with 
him  immediately.  "  Why  not?"  he  says  to  the 
astonished  listener.  "Is  he  not  happier  than  the 
czar,  or  the  emperor  of  Austria,  or  the  kings  of 
Saxony  or  Servia?  Has  he  not  a  more  guiltless 
conscience?  Who  in  this  world  is  to  be  envied 
if  not  he?  Has  he  not  a  saner  philosophy  than 
Nietzsche,  has  he  not  a  loftier  theology  than  the 
Metropolitan  of  Moscow,  has  he  not  a  healthier 
enjoyment  of  art  than  Wagner,  is  he  not  in  closer 
touch  with  nature  than  millions  of  the  wealthy 
who  lock  themselves  into  fireproof  cages  and 
know  nature  only  from  the  railroad  cars  and 
affection  only  from  sentimental  novels?"  Such 
is  the  flow  of  his  thought  each  day ;  not  so  pessi- 
mistic as  it  sounds  when  coined  into  words,  for 

19 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

hopefully  and  joyfully  he  is  waiting  for  the  har- 
vest, and  although  he  will  not  again  be  able  to 
thrust  his  sickle  into  the  ripened  grain,  he  be- 
lieves that "  God 's  in  his  heaven — all 's  right  with 
the  world!" 

He  is  really  aged ;  his  form  is  bent,  his  step  is 
slow,  but  his  vision  is  not  dimmed.  He  is  young 
and  vigorous  in  his  condemnations,  and  younger 
still  in  those  things  which  rejuvenate  themselves 
each  day,  and  which  never  fail — Faith,  Hope,  and 
Love.  He  is  still  Russia's  greatest  living  writer, 
in  spite  of  the  new  stars  which  have  arisen — 
Gorky,  Tschechoff,  Andrejeff.  He  is  still  the  one 
bold,  unmuffled  voice  which  protests  against  the 
wrongs  perpetrated  by  state  and  church,  by  czar, 
priest,  and  populace.  His  name  is  still  the  pass- 
word which  leads  into  the  homes  and  hearts  of 
all  the  lovers  of  freedom  and  believers  in  the  law 
of  Christ,  but  all  he  desires  is  to  remain  one  of 
the  Master's  humblest  disciples  "even  unto  the 
end." 


20 


CHAPTER  II 

CHILDHOOD  AND  SCHOOL  LIFE 

All  Slavic  villages  are  alike  in  their  unpictur- 
esqueness.  Draw  one  broad  street  flanked  by 
straw-thatched  mud  huts,  with  half-naked  chil- 
dren in  front  of  them,  add  a  village  pump,  a 
church  steeple,  and  as  fore  or  background  a  sea 
of  mud  or  a  cloud  of  dust,  and  you  have  a 
village  which  might  stand  in  the  Hungarian  Car- 
pathians, in  Poland,  or  in  the  heart  of  Russia. 
Such  a  one  is  Yasnaya  Polyana  in  the  district 
of  Krapivka,  near  the  city  of  Tula.  It  lies  not 
far  from  the  main  road  leading  from  Moscow 
to  Kiev,  which  is  the  Jerusalem  of  Russia,  the 
Mecca  of  every  orthodox  believer.  The  air  of  neg- 
lect which  characterizes  it  extends  to  Count  Tol- 
stoy's estate,  the  entrance  to  which  is  marked 
by  two  whitewashed,  half -ruined  towers.  At  the 
left  is  an  artificial  pond  now  used  by  the  village 
women,  who  wash  their  clothes  so  audibly  that 
the  woods  echo  from  the  monotonous  beat  of  the 

21 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

paddles  with  which  they  belabor  the  wet  gar- 
ments. The  driveway  leads  through  a  park 
which  has  grown  into  a  forest ;  leaving  it,  one 
faces  a  modest  two-story  building  whose  one 
wing  is  occupied  by  the  Count  and  his  family, 
while  the  other  is  a  sort  of  city  of  refuge  for  the 
many  named  and  nameless  ones  who  seek  this 
hospitable  home.  Three  times  in  the  last  forty 
years  it  has  received  additions  to  suit  the  grow- 
ing needs  of  the  Tolstoy  household,  but  useful- 
ness, not  beauty,  was  sought  after  and  achieved, 
for  nothing  which  man  has  done  here  shows  the 
least  sign  of  good  taste,  and  only  the  shining 
birch  and  beech  trees  save  the  place  from  being 
hopelessly  ugly  and  monotonous. 

The  orchard  in  the  rear  of  the  house  has  relapsed 
into  wildness,  and  is  almost  lost  in  the  encroaching 
forest.  In  front  is  a  well-worn  tennis-court  which 
is  of  recent  origin,  and  changes  its  use  with  the 
varying  fashions  of  modern  sports.  On  the  left 
side  of  the  house  is  a  porch,  large  enough  to  be 
the  main  gathering-place  of  the  Count's  family 
and  of  his  guests.  One  need  not  have  a  very 
vivid  imagination  to  find  the  place  melancholy ; 
silent  and  secluded  it  certainly  is,  and  in  the 

22 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

winter  not  far  from  gruesome.  The  estate  be- 
longed originally  to  the  Princes  of  Volkonsky, 
an  old  Russian  family  which  traces  its  lineage 
as  far  back  as  1246,  where  it  claims  St.  Michael, 
the  Prince  of  Cemago,  as  the  founder  of  this 
noble  house.  Maria,  the  only  daughter  of  Prince 
Nikolai  Sergejevitch  Volkonsky,  brought  this 
then  prosperous  estate  as  a  marriage  dowry  into 
the  Tolstoy  family,  whose  depleted  fortunes  re- 
ceived through  it  a  welcome  addition,  and  whose 
name,  while  much  less  ancient,  was  not  less  hon- 
ored than  that  of  the  wealthy  owners  of  Yasnaya 
Polyana.  Like  many  of  the  most  virile  blood  of 
Russia,  the  Tolstoys  came  originally  from  Ger- 
many, where  they  bore  the  prosaic  name  of  Dick 
or  Dickman,  Tolstoy  being  its  Russian  translation. 
One  cannot  get  much  light  upon  the  early  family 
annals,  some  of  which,  however,  were  dark  enough 
not  to  be  boasted  of  by  the  Tolstoys  of  to-day. 
Courtiers  and  politicians  there  were,  men  with 
strong  passions  who  did  not  shrink  from  dark 
deeds  which  brought  them  a  titled  name  and  for- 
tune. Of  two  of  the  Tolstoys,  Ivan  and  Peter 
Andrejevitch,  we  know  that  they  held  high  places 
under  Peter  the  Great,  although  they  had  espoused 

23 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

the  cause  of  Sofia,  and  were  involved  in  a  political 
plot.  They  gained  their  positions  by  their  useful- 
ness to  the  monarch,  who  finally  appointed  Peter 
Andrejevitch  Tolstoy  ambassador  to  Turkey, 
where  because  of  changing  political  currents  he 
was  cast  into  prison,  and  only  after  four  years 
of  severe  suffering  returned  to  Russia  a  poor 
man ;  later,  the  magnanimous  czar  recompensed 
him  for  his  hardships  by  new  offices  and  grants 
of  money.  In  the  adventurous  journey  of  the 
czar  through  Holland  and  France,  Peter  Andre- 
jevitch accompanied  him,  rising  steadily  in  his 
favor,  and  was  finally  given  the  delicate  mis- 
sion of  searching  for  Czarevitch  Alexej,  who  had 
fled  from  the  court,  and  was  found  by  Tolstoy 
at  St.  Elmo,  near  Naples.  The  czarevitch  was 
condemned  to  death,  and  although  no  public 
execution  took  place,  he  suffered  that  sever- 
est penalty,  presumably  at  the  hands  of  this 
Tolstoy,  who  rose  so  high  as  to  fall  suddenly, 
Peter  H.  banishing  him  to  a  cloister  near  Arch- 
angel, where  he  died  on  the  17th  of  February, 
1729.  While  Peter  Andrejevitch  left  upon  his 
family  a  shadow,  which  in  the  social  life  of  the 
court  might  even  be  considered  a  halo,  he  also 

24 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

left  some  literary  productions  which  show  him 
to  have  had  no  mean  talent  as  an  author  and 
a  translator,  the  books  he  gathered  in  his  exile 
vouching  for  his  taste  in  that  direction.  This 
ancestor  left  to  the  present  heir  of  his  name  and 
title  the  literary  tendency,  and  no  doubt  Tolstoy's 
democratic  spirit  was  furthered  in  its  develop- 
ment by  the  consciousness  that  a  great  and  lofty 
name  and  fame  may  come  from  very  low  sources. 
The  son  of  this  first  Count  Tolstoy  also  died  in 
exile  ;  of  the  son  whom  he  left,  nothing  is  known 
except  the  fact  that  he  was  the  father  of  one 
Andrej  Ivanovitch,  whose  son  began  to  make  the 
name  of  Tolstoy  renowned  by  great  heroism  in 
battle,  and  by  being  the  grandfather  of  the  pre- 
sent Tolstoy,  whose  fame  is  destined  to  be  more 
lasting  than  his,  although  not  won  at  court  or  on 
battlefield. 

Tolstoy's  father  was  what  presumably  all  the 
Tolstoys  were :  a  child  of  fortune,  a  somewhat 
superficial  student,  a  fighter,  gambler,  drinker 
of  fiery  wine,  and  breaker  of  women's  hearts. 
He  lived  up  to  the  reputation  of  his  class  and 
much  beyond  his  means,  doing  what  many  men 
have  done  before  and  after  him,  —  marrying  a 

?5 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

woman  who  had  neither  youth  nor  beauty,  but  a 
large  estate  and  many  serfs.  She  helped  him  pay 
his  debts,  and  settle  down  in  life,  so  that  finally 
he  grew  into  as  good  and  pious  a  man  as  she  was 
a  woman.  Of  her  still  less  is  known  than  of  the 
father,  except  that  she  was  a  faithful  wife,  a 
good  mother,  and  an  earnest  Christian,  worthy 
of  her  illustrious  son,  Leo  Nikolajevitch  Tolstoy, 
who  was  born  on  the  9th  of  September,  1828. 
He  was  the  fourth  son,  and  was  one  year  and 
a  half  old  when  his  mother  died.  Although  he 
never  knew  her,  he  has  felt  her  influence  all  his 
life,  and  in  his  story,  "  My  Childhood,"  mother 
love,  that  passion  to  him  unknown,  is  recorded 
in  some  of  the  most  beautiful  and  touching  sen- 
tences which  he  has  ever  written.  The  mother 
left  a  new-bom  babe,  a  little  girl,  Maria,  and  only 
seven  years  later,  the  five  children  were  com- 
pletely orphaned  by  the  death  of  their  father. 
When  this  catastrophe  came  upon  them  the  family 
had  just  moved  to  Moscow  to  prepare  the  older 
boys  for  the  university.  The  three  younger  chil- 
dren had  to  return  to  the  country  home,  where 
they  were  taken  in  charge  by  a  distant  relative, 
Tatyana  Alexandrovna  Yorgalskaya,  with  their 

26 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

aunt,  the  Countess  V.  Osten  Sacken,  as  guardian. 
After  her  death,  which  occurred  within  four 
years,  this  duty  fell  upon  a  second  aunt,  Pelageya 
Ilinishna  Yushkova,  whose  husband  owned  an  es- 
tate near  Kazan,  where  the  children  were  brought 
in  1840.  The  change  from  Yasnaya  Polyana  to 
Kazan  seemed  advantageous  to  the  relatives, 
because  the  latter  place  was  the  seat  of  a  univer- 
sity, and  again  because  the  home  of  the  aunt 
was  a  fashionable  one,  and  these  country-bred 
children  might  learn  there  the  manners  and  ways 
of  Russian  aristocratic  society.  Tolstoy  charac- 
terizes this  relative  as  "  a  very  kind  and  pious 
person,  pious  after  the  fashion  of  her  time,  per- 
forming assiduously  all  the  rites  of  the  Church, 
without  being  conscious  of  any  especial  duty  to- 
ward her  fellow  men,  or  any  necessity  of  a  change 
of  character  on  her  part."  She  was  superficial, 
fond  of  pomp  and  glitter,  and  desired  for  her 
foster  children  nothing  beyond  success  at  court 
and  in  fashionable  society.  Characteristic  of  her 
and  her  social  circle  is  the  wish  which  she  ex- 
pressed for  her  foster  son,  "  that  he  might  have 
a  *  liaison '  with  a  woman,  as  that  gave  a  man 
a  necessary  experience."  She  also  wished  him 

27 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

to  be  an  adjutant,  preferably  to  the  czar,  and 
the  possessor  of  a  great  number  of  serfs.  Nev- 
ertheless, Tolstoy  speaks  of  her  to-day  with  filial 
reverence  and  gratitude,  for  she  was  very  kind 
to  him  when  at  the  age  of  about  eleven  years 
he  came  to  her,  a  boy  who  never  had  a  childhood, 
and  over  whose  cradle  hung  the  shadow  of  a 
sorrow  which  was  never  quite  lifted.  This  aunt 
says  that  "he  gave  promise  of  being  a  very- 
homely  boy,  and  kept  his  promise  so  well  that 
his  looks  separated  him  from  other  children, 
creating  in  him  a  sensitiveness  which  both 
refined  and  embittered  his  life."  Everything 
which  happened  made  an  impression  upon  him 
and  drew  forth  his  question  or  comment.  If 
his  mother  had  lived  she  would  have  treasured 
that  which  was  completely  lost  upon  his  aunts. 
He  remembers,  although  dimly,  far  back  into 
his  child-life,  and  the  struggles  and  cries  of 
his  infant  years  are  still  in  his  memory.  He 
often  recalls  his  pleasure  at  being  bathed,  and 
can  yet  feel  the  sensation  of  the  smooth,  warm 
bath-tub  over  which  his  tiny  fingers  moved 
playfully.  He  also  recollects  the  first  fears,  the 
being  frightened  by  his  nurse,  who,  wrapped  in 

28  X 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

an  old  shawl,  came  as  the  Russian  bugaboo  to 
frighten  him  and  his  little  sister  into  being  good 
children.  He  has  a  vague  picture  of  the  German 
tutor  who  was  busy  teaching  his  older  brothers ; 
but  clearest  of  all  to  him  is  the  time  when  he 
had  to  leave  the  upper  rooms  where  he  lived  with 
his  nurse  and  little  sister  Masha,  and  had  to 
move  downstairs  where  his  three  brothers  lived. 
It  was  the  step  from  childhood  into  boyhood,  and 
when  his  black-haired,  tender  little  aunt  took  off 
his  baby  clothes  and  put  on  him  coat  and  trousers, 
it  was  as  if  she  had  invested  him  with  the  re- 
galia of  some  burdensome  station.  "  I  could  see," 
he  says,  "  that  she  felt  as  I  did ;  she  was  sorry 
for  me,  but  we  both  knew  it  had  to  be ;  and  for 
the  first  time  I  felt  that  life  was  not  a  plaything 
but  a  serious  matter." 

Unconsciously  he  began  to  feel  an  aversion  to 
the  city ;  for  the  change  from  the  woods  and 
fields  of  Yasnaya  Polyana  to  the  paved  and  dusty 
streets  of  Kazan  was  not  a  happy  one  for  a  boy 
who  loved  the  streams  and  fields,  the  gathering 
of  mushrooms,  the  chasing  after  rabbits,  and 
the  play  with  the  peasant  children.  The  oldest 
brother,  Nikolai,  came  from  the  Moscow  Univer- 

29 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

sity  to  finish  his  education  at  Kazan,  and  the 
two  younger  brothers  followed  a  little  later.  They 
had  the  best  tutors  that  could  be  found ;  a  French- 
man, St.  Thomas,  later  rather  disagreeably  immor- 
talized by  Tolstoy  as  St.  Jerome  in  his  "Youth,*' 
while  in  the  same  story  the  German  tutor,  Rossel, 
received  glory  and  honor  in  the  person  of  Karl 
Ivanovitch. 

The  three  older  brothers  chose  the  mathemat- 
ical course,  while  Leo,  somewhat  independently, 
chose  the  Oriental  languages.  During  the  years 
of  1842  to  1844  he  prepared  himself  in  Arabic 
and  Turko-Tartaric,  two  languages  required  for 
entrance  examination ;  but  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  the  university  authorities  were  rather 
easy-going  and  could  be  influenced  in  favor  of 
a  poorly  prepared  student,  Tolstoy  did  not  pass 
his  first  entrance  examination,  which  he  took 
in  1844.  He  failed  in  history,  geography,  and 
Latin,  but  stood  well  in  other  languages  and  in 
religion. 

In  a  somewhat  roundabout  way  it  was  made 
possible  for  him  to  try  again.  This  time,  in  the 
fall  of  the  same  year,  he  succeeded,  and  with 
not  a  little  pride  put  on  his  uniform  and  sword, 

30 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

the  insignia  of  the  university  student.  However, 
as  he  put  his  mind  upon  his  studies  with  much 
less  ardor,  he  failed  so  badly  at  the  first  half- 
year's  examination  that  it  seemed  unwise  to 
begin  again  in  the  same  department,  so  he  dis- 
continued the  study  of  languages  and  began 
to  hear  lectures  on  law.  His  early  failure  could 
not  have  been  due  to  any  lack  of  talent,  but 
rather  to  an  unwillingness  on  his  part  to  grapple 
with  dry  grammatical  formulae,  for  he  showed 
his  ability  to  learn  classical  languages  long  after 
his  school  years  had  closed.  In  fact  he  was  past 
middle  life  when  he  studied  Greek  and  Hebrew, 
but  then  he  did  it  in  leaps  and  bounds.  Indeed, 
his  teacher  in  Hebrew,  Rabbi  Minor  of  Moscow, 
says  of  his  pupil  of  over  fifty  years  of  age  :  "  He 
grasped  things  quickly,  but  he  read  only  that 
which  was  of  especial  interest  to  him  ;  what  he 
did  not  like  he  skipped.  We  began  with  Genesis, 
and  went  as  far  as  the  Prophecy  of  Isaiah.  There 
he  stopped  his  lessons,  for  to  have  traced  in  the 
original  the  development  of  the  prophecies  con- 
cerning the  Messiah  sufficed  him.  Grammar  he 
studied  only  when  he  thought  it  was  absolutely 
essential." 

31 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

At  Kazan  he  had  scarcely  a  taste  of  languages, 
much  of  grammar,  but  most  of  something  else 
which  was  very  detrimental  to  study,  and  that 
was  society.  Kazan,  a  city  of  forty  thousand 
inhabitants,  was  then  the  social  as  well  as  the 
business  center  of  that  large  portion  of  the  Rus- 
sian Empire  which  stretched  along  the  Volga 
and  Kama  rivers.  No  railroads  led  to  either  Mos- 
cow or  St.  Petersburg,  so  the  aristocrats  of  that 
region  made  Kazan  their  social  capital,  where 
they  spent  during  the  winter  all  that  their  serfs 
had  earned  for  them  during  the  summer.  Many 
a  fond  mother  brought  her  daughters  to  find 
a  suitable  match  for  them,  and  university  men 
were  held  at  a  premium.  Formal  dinners  fol- 
lowed one  another  so  quickly  that  a  student  did 
not  need  to  provide  for  any  meal  except  break- 
fast. After  dinner  a  siesta  was  fashionable  as 
well  as  necessary,  for  each  evening  brought  a 
ball  or  a  card  party,  which  lasted  until  morn- 
ing. 

Tolstoy's  aunt  had  a  home,  in  which  the  busy 
social  life  made  study  impossible  and  failure 
at  examinations  a  foregone  conclusion.  In  the 
study  of  the  law  he  was  somewhat  more  suc- 

32 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

cessful  than  in  his  previous  attempts,  although 
the  law  faculty  was  the  poorest  imaginable,  and 
lectures  such  a  farce  that  students  from  other 
departments  came  to  them  simply  to  amuse  them- 
selves. Nearly  all  the  professors  were  Germans 
who  knew  as  little  of  Russia's  law  as  they  did 
of  its  language. 

The  student  body  was  sharply  divided  be- 
tween the  aristocrats  and  the  plebeians,  and  Tol- 
stoy was  found  among  his  class.  Even  then, 
however,  he  struggled  against  that  necessity, 
and  began  the  inner  battle  which  he  did  not 
finish  until  many  sharp  conflicts  subdued  his 
natural  pride,  and  made  him  see  in  every  man 
a  brother.  He  did  not  win  for  himself  comrades, 
and  no  friendships  survived  those  years  in  which 
the  making  of  friends  is  as  great  a  privilege 
as  the  acquisition  of  knowledge.  Those  who  re- 
member him  as  he  was  at  that  time  speak  of 
him  as  a  very  proud  and  conceited  young  man, 
who  was  nicknamed  by  his  fellows  "Philoso- 
pher "  and  "  Recluse."  Unfortunately  he  found 
no  one  who  could  understand  him  or  to  whom 
he  could  express  himself,  and  his  critical  atti- 
tude toward  the  coarse  pleasures  of  the  plebe- 

33 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

ians,  and  to  the  more  refined  but  just  as  low 
pleasures  of  the  aristocrats  separated  him  almost 
completely  from  his  college  mates,  none  of  whom 
rose  above  the  commonplace  view  of  life.  Nasar- 
yef,  a  colleague  of  those  days,  and  one  who  was 
never  drawn  toward  him,  thus  describes  him  at 
one  of  the  private  lectures  on  Russian  literature, 
delivered  by  a  professor  who  walked  about  in 
his  morning  gown  quite  unconscious  of  the  pre- 
sence of  his  students :  "Tolstoy  was  one  of  the 
most  peculiar  men  I  had  ever  seen ;  so  full  of 
self-importance  and  conceit.  The  professor  told 
something  interesting  about  literature  to  which 
this  young  man  listened,  and  after  the  lecture 
was  over  left  without  saying  good-by."  This 
same  Nasaryef  spent  twenty-four  hours  with 
Tolstoy  in  involuntary  confinement  for  having 
come  late  and  noisily  to  the  lectures.  The  pen- 
alty was  not  very  severe,  and  was  lightened  by 
the  fact  that  the  Count's  servant  was  permitted 
to  attend  him.  Nasaryef  continues  : — 

"  As  we  entered  the  jail,  Tolstoy  threw  off  his 
fur  coat  rather  angrily,  and  with  his  cap  on 
his  head  walked  up  and  down  without  paying 
the  least  attention  to  me.   He  looked  out  of  the 

34 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

barred  window,  buttoned  and  unbuttoned  his  coat 
nervously,  and  betrayed  in  every  movement  his 
anger  over  this  uncomfortable  and  ridiculous 
position. 

"  I  lay  there  with  my  head  buried  in  my  book 
seemingly  paying  no  attention  to  what  he  did, 
although  I  was  boiling  from  rage  over  his  in- 
civility toward  me.  Suddenly  he  opened  the  door 
and  called  out  peremptorily  to  his  servant,  just 
as  if  he  were  at  home,  *  Tell  the  coachman  to 
drive  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  window.'  Then 
this  moody  and  disagreeable  young  man  stood 
looking  out  to  kill  time  in  some  way.  I  con- 
tinued to  read,  but  the  situation  grew  painful, 
and  I  too  stepped  to  the  window.  In  the  street 
the  stiff  and  sedate  coachman  drove  his  horse, 
now  at  a  trot,  and  now  at  a  walk,  up  and  down.  I 
said  something  about  the  beautiful  stallion, — 
one  word  led  to  another,  and  an  hour  later 
we  were  involved  in  an  endless  discussion,  the 
warmth  of  which  was  intensified  by  a  mutually 
awakened  dislike.  First  he  gave  vent  to  his  wrath 
against  history,  in  words  which  later  he  put  into 
the  mouth  of  one  of  his  characters,  thus  :  *  His- 
tory is  only  a  collection  of  fables  and  unnecessary 

35 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

details  mixed  with  a  lot  of  useless  dates  and 
names.  These  dates  and  names  are  the  only  posi- 
tive things,  and  the  rest,  the  death  of  Prince 
Igor,  the  story  of  the  snake  which  bit  Oleg  the 
hero,  those  are  fables.  And  who  needs  to  know 
that  the  second  marriage  of  Ivan  the  Terrible 
with  the  daughter  of  Tomruck  was  solemnized 
on  the  21st  of  August,  1562,  and  his  fourth  mar- 
riage with  Anna  Alexejavna  Kallovsky  in  the 
year  1572  ?  That  stuff  I  have  to  learn  by  heart, 
and  if  I  do  not,  I  get  a  zero  in  my  examination. 
And  how  is  this  history  written  ?  All  of  it  ac- 
cording to  a  pattern  which  was  drawn  without 
reason  by  the  historians  themselves.  Here  is  an 
example  of  their  teaching :  "  The  terrible  czar, 
of  whom  we  have  heard  from  Professor  Ivanof , 
suddenly  changes  from  being  a  noble,  virtuous, 
and  wise  ruler,  into  a  senseless,  lewd,  and  cruel 
tyrant."  Why?  how?  and  wherefore?  one  is  not 
allowed  to  ask.' " 

Before  Tolstoy  left  the  jail,  he  gave  Nasaryef 
this  parting  shot :  "We  two  have  the  right  to 
leave  this  temple  of  wisdom  as  useful  and  edu- 
cated men ;  now  say  it  honestly,  what  are  we 
going  to  take  with  us  into  life  out  of  this  sanc- 

36 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

tuary,  and  of  what  use  are  we  going  to  be  to 
society?" 

Not  many  young  men  at  Kazan  asked  them- 
selves or  others  such  a  question,  and  Tolstoy's 
fame  as  a  "  recluse  "  and  "philosopher  "  was  not 
diminished  after  Nasaryef  reported  this  first 
known  interview  with  him,  in  which  he  disclosed 
his  views  on  education  —  views  of  course  influ- 
enced by  the  peculiar  conditions  in  the  Kazan 
University,  but  views  which  he  never  changed. 

Tolstoy's  aversion  to  history  was  increased  by 
his  dislike  of  the  professor  who  occupied  that 
chair,  and  that  the  feeling  was  mutual  is  indi- 
cated by  this  correct  account  of  an  examination 
in  his  department.  Nasaryef  reports  :  "  The  ar- 
rival of  the  bloodthirsty  professor  is  anxiously 
awaited  by  the  would-be  lawyers,  who  are  almost 
crazed  by  fear.  One  after  the  other  they  receive 
their  cards  and  answer  the  questions  as  best  they 
can.  Finally,  it  is  Count  Tolstoy's  turn.  I  was 
very  curious  to  see  how  he  would  distinguish 
himself,  for  I  had  already  recognized  in  him  a 
remarkable  young  man.  Two  or  three  minutes 
passed ;  I  still  waited  anxiously  while  Tolstoy 
looked  at  the  list,  growing  red  and  pale  alter- 

37 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

nately,  but  remaining  silent.  The  professor  asked 
him  to  take  another  card,  but  the  result  was  the 
same ;  he  remained  silent.  The  professor  also  said 
nothing,  but  looked  at  the  badly  confused  student 
with  an  angry  jeer.  The  painful  scene  was  sud- 
denly ended  by  Tolstoy,  who  put  the  lists  back 
and  walked  out  of  the  room,  without  looking  at 
any  one  or  saying  a  word.  '  A  zero ;  he  will  get 
a  zero,'  whispered  the  students  one  to  the  other, 
while  I  was  nearly  moved  to  tears  by  sympathy. 
The  aristocrats  who  stood  around,  festively  clad 
as  if  for  a  ball,  and  many  of  whom  had  to  ex- 
pect the  same  fate,  told  one  another  that  a  num- 
ber of  ladies  of  the  highest  nobility  had  been  to 
see  the  professor,  and  had  pleaded  with  him  not 
to  give  Tolstoy  a  *  1,'  which  meant  failure.  They 
had  implored  him  so  long  that  he  granted  their 
request,  and  gave  the  Count  a  zero,  which  was 
of  course  worse." 

Tolstoy's  disUke  of  history  and  failure  in  it 
were  due  no  doubt  to  the  same  causes  as  his  dis- 
like of  languages  and  failure  in  them.  To  study 
the  technical  part  of  any  subject  was  distasteful 
to  him ;  if  he  studied,  he  wanted  to  know  just  why 
he  studied,  and  he  preferred  to  solve  the  pro- 

38 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

blems  of  history,  rather  than  to  trouble  himself 
by  names  and  dates.  That  he  had  a  proper, 
although  somewhat  exaggerated,  view  of  the 
faults  in  the  teaching  of  both  languages  and 
history,  the  pedagogic  development  of  the  last 
twenty-five  years  has  proved.  In  languages  we 
show  to-day  the  body  before  the  bones,  the  living 
language  before  the  rigid  frame,  the  grammar. 
In  history  we  find  the  wherefore  of  the  event 
more  important  than  its  correct  placing  in  the 
calendar.  Only  one  professor  at  Kazan  knew  how 
to  attract  this  early  ripe  mind,  and  that  one 
was  Professor  J.  D.  Meier,  who  lectured  on  civil 
law.  He  won  Tolstoy  by  assigning  him  the  work 
of  comparing  the  "  Sketch  of  the  New  Code  of 
Laws  of  Katherine  the  Great"  with  Montes- 
quieu's "  L'Esprit  des  Lois."  This  was  the  kind  of 
work  now  largely  carried  on  in  modem  univer- 
sities, and  known  as  the  "  seminar."  But  it  held 
Tolstoy's  complete  attention,  and  proved  his  only 
successful  and  profitable  work  at  Kazan.  What 
he  was  to  experience  as  a  man  had  already  be- 
gun its  premonitions  in  his  soul.  He  had  com- 
menced climbing  the  mountain,  whose  height  he 
was  to  reach  through  self-denial ;  although  every 

39 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

moment  his  feet  were  slipping,  and  he  seemed 
to  have  lost  his  faith  and  all  foundations  for  a 
moral  life.  That  which  has  made  so  many  slip 
and  fall  never  to  rise  again,  the  difference  be- 
tween the  professions  and  the  practice  of  Chris- 
tians, was  already  his  stumbling-block;  and  his 
aunt's  pious  prayers  and  impious  ambitions,  her 
singing  of  heaven  and  helping  to  create  around 
her  a  social  hell,  were  not  the  least  of  the  causes 
which  drove  him  to  a  complete  bankruptcy  of 
faith ;  so  that  when  he  was  eighteen  years  of 
age  he  had  lost  all  of  God  that  he  brought  with 
him  into  this  world  from  the  other.  "  I  remem- 
ber," says  this  treasurer  of  his  own  childhood's 
thoughts,  "  when  I  was  eleven  years  old,  how  a 
schoolmate  came  to  me  and  told  me  that  there 
is  no  God,  and  that  we  all  received  this  state- 
ment as  a  piece  of  strange  news;  something 
possible  but  not  probable.  Furthermore,  I  re- 
member," he  says,  "  how  I  went  walking  along 
the  lake  in  the  springtime,  on  the  day  of  my  ex- 
amination, how  I  prayed  to  God  that  I  might  pass 
successfully,  and  I  recall  how,  after  I  had  learned 
the  catechism,  word  for  word,  I  knew  that  it  was 
all  untrue."  Suddenly  he  came  to  his  conclusions 

40 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

and  decision,  and  threw  things  overboard,  only 
to  weight  himself  immediately,  by  new  problems. 
Thus  at  the  age  of  sixteen  years  he  was  al- 
ready fighting  a  moral  battle  within  himself 
and  was  trying  to  find  some  solid  basis  for  his 
lofty  and  wandering  thoughts.  Alone,  under  the 
beeches  of  Yasnaya  Polyana,  during  long  vaca- 
tions, he  went  through  the  real  schooling  which 
he  sought.  The  old  and  the  new  philosophy,  fu- 
gitive volumes  from  the  classics,  and  the  modems, 
who  began  to  move  and  think,  were  his  teachers, 
while  at  the  same  time  he  tried  to  bring  them  all 
to  that  highest  of  tests,  already  unconsciously 
established  in  his  life,  —  the  law  of  Jesus,  which 
to  him  was  to  be  the  only  law.  Like  the  One 
who  was  to  be  his  Master,  he  was  among  the 
teachers  asking  questions,  and  had  he  been  in 
the  school  of  Athens,  or  at  Jerusalem,  rather 
than  in  the  stiff,  cold  atmosphere  of  Kazan,  he 
might  have  learned  more  and  scorned  much  less. 
He  lost  himself  in  thought,  and  finally,  by  think- 
ing about  his  thinking  he  entered  into  an  end- 
less labyrinth,  and  began  that  self -analysis,  that 
hard  reasoning,  which  rested  completely  upon 
reason  and  yet  broke  from  it  at  every  point.  His 

41 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

university  studies  were  never  completed^  and 
while  he  may  not  have  known  more  than  his 
teachers,  as  he  at  one  time  claimed,  he  knew  better 
than  they,  or  at  least  he  honestly  determined  to 
know  better,  even  if  it  led  him  away  from  the 
usual  sources  of  knowledge.  His  brothers  had 
finished  their  courses  at  the  university,  and  he 
found  himself  more  alone  than  ever.  He  was  at 
that  time  like  a  volcano,  thrown  out  upon  the  Rus- 
sian plain,  and  asking  the  reason  for  his  being  and 
the  end  of  it  all ;  he  was  conscious  of  his  isolation, 
conscious  of  some  strange  light,  some  burning 
fire,  yet  he  began  to  realize  that  it  was  wrong  for 
him  to  stand  upon  his  height,  to  consume  his  fire 
or  be  consumed  uselessly  by  it.  As  little  as  he 
was  at  home  in  the  university,  so  little  was  he 
at  home  in  that  society  of  which  his  aunt's  house 
was  the  center.  He  was  roughly  made,  sharp- 
eyed,  and  angular  in  speech  and  movement.  He 
says  of  himself,  "  I  was  shy  by  nature,  but  my 
shyness  was  increased  by  the  consciousness  of 
my  homeliness.  I  am  satisfied  that  nothing  so 
determines  the  direction  of  a  man's  life  as  just 
his  exterior,  whether  he  is  attractive  or  not." 
Wherever  Tolstoy  draws  himself  he  makes  him- 

42 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

self  as  unattractive  and  shy  as  he  really  was. 
This  lack  of  personal  beauty  may  have  helped 
him  to  break  suddenly  from  that  society  which 
never  held  him,  but  which  was  to  reach  out  her 
seductive  arms  to  him  again  and  again  and 
keep  him  awhile  in  her  embrace. 

Pushed  aside  or  having  stepped  aside,  or  both, 
he  had  a  fine  vantage-ground  from  which  to 
watch  the  hollowness  and  the  folly  of  it  all ;  the 
ungenuineness  of  its  affection,  the  madness  of 
its  whirl,  and  the  horror  and  degradation  of  its 
aim  and  end.  He  had  a  passion  to  be  good,  to 
find  a  kindred  soul  with  kindred  longings,  but  if 
he  expressed  such  a  thought  he  was  laughed  at. 
He  says,  "When  I  gave  myself  up  to  ignoble 
passions  they  praised  me :  I  was  encouraged  in 
being  conceited,  domineering,  angry,  revengeful. 
All  that  was  highly  commended."  After  more 
than  thirty  years  he  said  in  his  "  Confessions  "  : 
"  I  cannot  think  of  this  time  without  fear,  repug- 
nance, and  heartache ;  in  every  fiber  of  my  being 
I  wanted  to  be  good,  but  I  was  young,  I  was  pas- 
sionate, and  I  was  alone  whenever  I  sought  the 
good."  Yes,  he  was  alone  as  all  the  seekers  are ; 
he  was  in  a  narrow  path,  where  the  two  or  three 

43 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

seldom  walk  together,  but  each  for  himself  passes 
through  the  temptations  in  the  wilderness.  On 
the  12th  of  April,  1847,  Tolstoy  petitioned  the 
dean  to  permit  him  to  withdraw  from  the  uni- 
versity on  account  of  his  health  and  his  personal 
affairs.  On  the  14th  he  received  his  papers  and 
soon  after  left  Kazan  for  Yasnaya  Polyana. 


44 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  LANDED  PROPRIETOR 

Tolstoy  did  not  enter  upon  his  work  at  Yasnaya 
Polyana  without  meeting  the  opposition  of  his 
aunt  and  the  ridicule  of  his  brothers.  In  that 
autobiographical  sketch,  "Mornings  of  a  Landed 
Proprietor,"  he  speaks  frankly  of  his  experiences 
at  that  period.  The  hero  of  the  story  writes  his 
aunt  of  his  determination  to  live  for  the  pea- 
sants, whom  he  has  found  in  a  wretched  condi- 
tion, out  of  which  he  feels  that  he  must  save 
them,  a  work  which  seems  to  him  more  neces- 
sary than  the  continuation  of  his  studies,  and 
which  he  can  do  without  academic  training  or  a 
university  diploma.  He  closes  the  letter  by  say- 
ing :  "  Do  not  tell  my  brother ;  I  am  afraid  of  his 
ridicule." 

The  aunt  in  the  story,  who  no  doubt  repre- 
sents his  own  relative,  replies  :  "  I  have  grown 
to  be  fifty  years  of  age,  and  known  many  re- 
spectable people,  but  I  have  never  heard  that 

45 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

a  young  man  of  good  family  and  much  talent 
should  bury  himself  in  a  village  under  the  pre- 
text of  doing  good  to  the  peasants."  The  Rus- 
sian young  men  of  good  family  were  living  off  the 
peasants,  and  not  one  of  them  had  yet  dreamt  of 
living  for  them.  The  peasant  was  a  serf,  not 
much  better  than  an  animal  in  the  estimation  of 
his  owner,  and  the  nobler  instincts  of  both  lord 
and  serf  were  crushed,  or  remained  undeveloped 
by  that  nefarious  institution,  slavery.  Most  of 
the  land-owners  lived  in  the  cities  or  traveled  in 
foreign  lands,  where  they  spent  even  more  than 
could  be  earned  for  them  by  the  serfs,  left  in 
charge  of  unscrupulous  managers,  who  ground 
out  of  them  all  they  could ;  and  in  the  grinding 
process  both  the  nobility  and  peasantry  came 
near  irreparable  ruin.  The  slavery  in  the  South 
of  our  own  country  had  similar  yet  different 
effects,  because  in  Russia  the  slaves  were  of  the 
same  blood  as  their  masters,  with  only  a  super- 
ficial culture  and  the  right  of  possession  to  dif- 
ferentiate the  two  classes,  so  that  the  reflex  action 
was  immediate  and  severe.  Tolstoy  discovered 
the  danger  to  both,  and  recognized  in  the  peasant 
his  kinsman,  simple  and  unspoiled,  who  needed, 

46 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

as  he  thought,  but  to  have  his  faults  pointed  out 
to  him,  to  remedy  them  quickly  and  completely. 
He  went  to  his  task  with  a  holy  enthusiasm  and 
with  no  little  heart-searching  as  to  whether 
after  all  he  was  not  doing  it  selfishly  and  with 
a  desire  to  be  odd,  two  faults  of  which  he  was 
always  conscious  and  against  which  he  was  man- 
fully struggling.  He  went  to  Yasnaya  Polyana 
because  he  wished  to  give  to  his  life  a  purpose 
which  could  be  an  answer  to  the  question  that 
was  always  ringing  in  his  ears  :  "  Why  am  I  in 
the  world  ?  "  Here  in  this  ruined  village,  among 
these  peasants,  with  centuries  of  woe  upon  their 
shoulders,  he  would  work  as  a  redeeming  force. 
"  I  have  thought  much  about  my  responsibilities 
in  the  future,"  he  says  in  that  letter  to  his  aunt. 
"  I  have  set  up  certain  maxims  for  my  actions, 
and  if  God  will  give  me  life  and  strength,  my 
plans  shall  be  carried  out."  No  doubt  the  desire 
to  live  among  the  peasants  was  fostered  by  the 
reading  of  Rousseau,  who  made  such  a  great 
impression  upon  Tolstoy  that  he  now  says  of 
that  period :  "  I  idolized  Rousseau  to  such  an 
extent  that  I  wanted  to  wear  his  portrait  on  my 
breast  beside  the  saint's  picture." 

47 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Tolstoy  worshiped  Rousseau,  largely  because 
he  recognized  in  him  one  whose  spirit  was  akin 
to  his,  and  because  Rousseau  expressed  plainly 
what  was  as  yet  confused  in  his  own  brain ;  the 
feeling  that  something  was  wrong,  that  the  con- 
trasts in  society  were  too  great,  that  the  culture 
which  he  saw  and  in  which  he  lived  was  only  a 
varnished  barbarism :  these  things  he  had  felt 
for  a  long  time,  and  Rousseau's  call  for  a  return 
to  unspoiled  nature  harmonized  with  his  feelings 
and  found  a  ready  response. 

Tolstoy's  course  also  caused  much  shaking  of 
heads  among  the  peasants,  who  could  understand 
his  attitude  even  less  than  did  his  aristocratic 
relatives.  To  the  peasants  the  coming  of  the 
owner  of  Yasnaya  Polyana  was  always  some- 
thing to  be  feared,  for  it  meant  that  money  had 
run  low,  that  debts  were  pressing,  and  that  new 
methods  of  getting  money  out  of  the  serfs  and  out 
of  the  soil  had  to  be  invented.  They  used  to  be 
called  before  the  master  to  hear  of  additional  ex- 
penses which  they  must  bear,  and  with  threats  and 
curses  to  have  loaded  upon  them  burdens  which 
grew  so  heavy  that  the  poor  creatures  became 
benumbed  even  to  any  feeling  of  grief  or  oppo- 

48 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

sition.  Now  they  were  called  together  on  Sundays 
to  unburden  themselves,  to  bring  their  complaints 
and  ask  for  such  assistance  as  they  might  need. 
They  were  always  suspicious  of  their  masters, 
but  when  one  came  with  kindness  they  were  still 
more  so.  They  were  always  told  untruth  and  they 
answered  in  the  same  coin ;  they  were  robbed,  and 
in  return  they  stole  whatever  they  could ;  they 
and  their  masters  lived  in  two  worlds,  each  un- 
known to  the  other,  and  were  not  only  estranged 
but  antagonistic.  All  the  elaborate  system  which 
Tolstoy  organized  to  uplift  them  the  peasants 
regarded  only  as  a  new  method  of  getting  more 
work  and  more  money  out  of  them,  so  that  the 
experiment  had  to  fail  and  did;  not  only  be- 
cause they  were  suspicious.  It  failed  also  because 
the  peasants  are  naturally  impassive  and  do  not 
even  now  care  to  be  disturbed.  Tolstoy  built 
them  model  houses  into  which  no  one  would 
move,  even  out  of  huts  which  might  at  any  time 
bury  their  inmates ;  huts  which  were  damp  and 
dark  and  not  as  comfortable  as  some  stables. 
Yes,  the  peasant  asked  for  wood  to  repair  them, 
and  if  it  had  been  given  him,  he  probably  would 
have  sold  it  or  used  it  for  firewood ;  but  to  move 

49 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

into  a  new  house,  sanitarily  built,  —  "  no,  indeed 
not,  they  are  veritable  fortresses,  not  homes." 
Home  to  him  was  a  broken-down  shack,  the  un- 
used manure  lying  about  the  door,  another  hut 
in  the  same  condition,  leaning  in  a  neighborly  and 
confidential  way  against  his,  and  the  odorifer- 
ous village  pond  right  under  his  nose.  "  Leave  us 
here,"  the  peasants  pleaded,  "  do  not  drive  us  out 
of  our  nest  into  a  strange  world,"  —  the  strange 
world  being  not  a  mile  from  the  center  of  the 
village.  "  Why  don't  you  fertilize  your  field  ?  " 
Tolstoy  asked  a  peasant  who  was  complaining 
about  his  own  poverty  and  that  of  his  soil. 
"  Your  honor,"  he  replied,  "  it  is  n't  the  manure 
which  makes  the  grain  grow,  but  God ;  God  does 
everything."  At  every  point  Tolstoy  was  met  by 
poverty,  lies,  and  an  unwillingness  or  inability 
to  respond  to  most  generous  help.  The  school  he 
built  remained  empty,  the  model  houses  were 
uninhabited,  while  the  peasants  remained  just 
as  they  were,  and  perhaps  lazier  if  not  less  hon- 
est because  they  had  been  met  by  gentleness  and 
love.  It  was  not  a  feeling  of  disappointment 
which  filled  Tolstoy  at  his  failure,  but  rather  a 
feeling  of  shame  that  men  could  be  so  crushed 

50 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

by  adverse  conditions  that  they  could  not  feel 
kindness  or  respond  to  it,  and  that  a  life  of  self- 
denial  for  the  sake  of  others  should  be  such  an 
impossibility.  He  began  to  realize  the  distance 
between  himself  and  those  whom  he  desired  to 
help,  and  to  feel  that  the  only  way  to  reach 
them  would  be  to  change  the  relation  between 
master  and  servant,  and  himself  become  "  like 
him  that  serveth."  His  experiences  also  sug- 
gested the  question,  whether,  after  all,  the  pea- 
sant's life  is  not  the  best  one  ;  whether  the  serf 
who  works  hard  and  sleeps  off  his  weariness  in 
the  fragrant  hay  is  not  the  happier  man ;  and 
whether  that  half  vagabond  and  half  peasant, 
"  Ilyushka,"  who  harnesses  his  horses  and  drives 
from  city  to  city  seeing  land  and  people,  earn- 
ing his  chance  ruble  and  spending  it  for  food 
and  drink, — whether  his  life  is  not  the  happier 
one;  and  he  closes  his  reflections  by  saying: 
"  Why  may  I  not  be  like  Ilyushka  ?  "  He  already 
begins  to  think  about  sinking  himself  into  his 
people,  but  the  desire  to  know  more  draws  him 
to  St.  Petersburg,  where  he  halts  among  many 
opinions,  now  wishing  to  enter  the  government 
service  as  an  official,  and  again  planning  to  join 

51 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

the  army  on  its  way  to  Hungary,  where  it  is  to 
help  Austria  in  the  suppression  of  a  good-sized 
rebellion.  Finally  he  enters  the  university,  lis- 
tens indifferently  to  lectures  on  law  and  passes 
some  kind  of  examination,  without  having  studied 
anything;  for  he  spends  the  nights  carousing 
and  the  days  sleeping,  and  deadening  his  con- 
science by  drink.  In  the  spring  of  the  year  1849 
he  returned  to  Yasnaya  Polyana,  not  as  a  re- 
former, but  as  a  man  who  needed  to  be  reformed. 
This  time  he  did  not  come  alone ;  he  had  picked 
up  in  St.  Petersburg  a  piece  of  wrecked  human- 
ity, a  German  musician  whom  he  found  on  the 
outer  edge  of  society,  ready  to  drop  to  his  ruin, 
whom  he  carried  home  to  nurse  back  to  health. 
With  him  he  began  enthusiastically  the  study  of 
music,  and  was  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of 
the  German  tone-world,  to  which  he  had  been  a 
total  stranger.  He  had  known  only  that  music 
which  Russian  society  cultivated,  which  was  as 
superficial  and  as  light  as  its  own  moral  fiber. 
Now  he  learned  to  love  the  severe  and  express- 
ive qualities  of  Bach,  of  Gluck,  and  of  Beetho- 
ven, becoming  a  passionate  lover  of  the  latter's 
compositions.  About  this  time  Tolstoy's  brother, 

52 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Sergei,  came  into  the  tuneful  atmosphere  of 
Yasnaya  Polyana,  but  as  a  disturbing  element, 
for  he  was  passionately  fond  of  gypsies,  and 
brought  a  horde  of  them  to  make  merry  for  him 
and  his  companions.  The  Russian  gypsies  are 
professional  merry-makers,  and  although  poor, 
are  a  rather  expensive  luxury,  which  only  the 
rich  can  afford.  They  are  found  in  nearly  every 
pleasure  resort  in  Moscow,  picturesquely  clad, 
swift  and  graceful  in  their  movements,  dancing 
wildly  and  singing  joyously,  the  women  with 
their  dark  and  fiery  eyes  kindling  the  sluggish 
blood  of  the  pleasure-loving  Russian  aristocracy. 
The  gypsy  is  never  sorrowful,  for  he  has  no  his- 
tory to  sadden  him  by  its  defeats,  no  prophets 
to  burden  him  by  their  mission,  and  no  moral 
code  to  give  inconvenient  twinges  to  his  con- 
science. He  is  the  best  plaything  that  a  Rus- 
sian noble  can  find,  although  not  seldom  proving 
his  moral  and  financial  ruin.  Sergei  married  one 
of  these  gypsy  women,  and  almost  persuaded 
Tolstoy  to  do  the  same  thing.  Yasnaya  Polyana 
came  again  into  its  former  glory;  there  were 
wild  music,  dancing,  gambling,  and  hunting; 
sleigh-rides  behind  fast  horses,  excursions  to 

53 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Moscow,  and  debauches  which  lasted  for  weeks, 
with  scarcely  any  time  between  to  become  sober. 
In  the  two  years  since  Tolstoy's  failure  as  a  re- 
former, his  beautiful  dream  of  being  with  nature 
and  living  for  others  had  changed  into  a  hor- 
rible nightmare  of  vulgar  excesses,  and  he  him- 
self had  sunk  to  the  level  of  a  common  gambler 
in  whom  the  passion  had  grown  to  be  almost  a 
mania.  Vainly  did  the  oldest  brother,  Nikolai, 
who  was  much  devoted  to  him,  try  to  persuade 
him  to  enter  the  army  and  go  with  him  to  the 
Caucasus;  he  preferred  the  "broad"  life  of  Mos- 
cow where  he  could  "eat,  drink,  and  be  merry," 
and  let  the  morrow  take  care  of  itself.  Nowhere 
in  the  world  is  sin  quite  so  seductive  as  it  is  in 
and  around  Moscow,  unless  it  be  in  Paris ;  but 
there  one  reaches  bottom  much  sooner,  and  a 
sensitive  conscience  quickly  begins  its  accusa- 
tions. In  Moscow  pleasure  comes  with  oriental 
sweetness  and  gentleness;  it  rocks  the  con- 
science to  sleep  while  it  keeps  the  passions 
awake.  Moscow  holds  one  in  her  warm  embrace 
as  if  she  were  a  rich  and  delicate  fur  coat  which 
shields  from  cold  and  hardship ;  she  spoils  one 
for  life  without  making  one  dissatisfied  by  it. 

54 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Moscow  has  a  Puritanism  of  form,  but  not  of 
conscience;  she  has  countless  churches  and  no 
preachers.  The  worst  excesses  are  not  only  tol- 
erated by  society  but  also  encouraged,  and  had  it 
not  been  for  Tolstoy's  ever-accusing  conscience, 
and  his  keen,  self-analyzing  mind,  he  would  have 
gone  to  the  bottom,  without,  of  course,  losing  his 
place  at  the  top.  There  are  elegant  mansions  on 
Moscow's  boulevards  whose  purpose  is  not  quite 
known  to  the  uninitiated.  Until  daybreak  rest- 
less horses  and  patient  coachmen  wait  in  front 
of  them  for  their  masters,  who  come  out  sobered 
by  severe  losses  or  doubly  intoxicated  by  excess- 
ive drink  and  their  winnings  at  games  of 
chance.  At  such  places  Tolstoy  was  a  frequent 
visitor  and  a  constant  loser ;  with  dogged  deter- 
mination he  placed  his  fortune  upon  the  whirl- 
ing wheel  until  heavy  debts  pressed  him  sorely, 
and  the  sham  and  the  shame  of  it  all  drove  him 
one  day  back  to  Yasnaya  Polyana,  and  from 
there  to  the  Caucasus.  He  desired  to  run  away 
from  a  society  which  was  so  attractive  and  yet 
so  repulsive,  which  had  exacted  from  him  its 
tribute,  and  had  now  so  grievously  burdened 
him  by  its  dubious  reward. 

55 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  CAUCASUS 

"Then  why  did  you  come  to  the  Caucasus?"  Tol- 
stoy asks  one  of  his  characters,  who  answers : 
"Do  you  know  why?  because  in  Russia  we  believe 
that  the  Caucasus  is  a  country  for  all  sorts  of 
unfortunate  people,  but  oh !  how  disappointed 
we  all  are !  "  "I  am  not,"  the  interlocutor  replies; 
"I  love  the  Caucasus  now  more  than  ever,  but  in 
a  different  way." 

This  last  phrase  rightly  expresses  Tolstoy's  at- 
titude toward  that  country.  He  did  not  love  it  as 
Lermantoff  and  Puschkin  loved  it,  for  its  scenic 
beauty,  for  its  virgin  snow,  for  its  laurel  and  acacia, 
for  the  sweet  notes  of  its  nightingales,  for  the 
possibility  of  forgetting  and  being  forgotten ;  he 
loved  it  and  still  loves  it  because  here  in  this  utter 
desolation  he  "  came  to  himself."  Here  was  the 
prodigal's  first  "  far  country,"  in  which  "  no  man 
gave  unto  him."  Here  he  learned  to  know  that 
large  and  sorrowful  company,  the  ills  of  the  hu- 

56 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

man  race, — hunger,  cold,  hardship,  sickness,  dan- 
ger, death,  and  fear  of  death.  To  him  nature  spoke 
in  human  terms;  in  its  beauty  and  power,  in  its 
heights  and  depths  he  saw  the  divine  forces ;  not 
as  opiates  for  dreams  and  artificial  ecstasies,  but 
forces  for  human  redemption.  He  was  not  moved 
to  a  glorification  of  that  which  was  already  glori- 
ous, and  in  a  night  when  he  felt  all  those  myste- 
rious sounds  melting  into  an  harmonious  quiet, 
"  when  all  the  manifold,  scarce  audible  movements 
of  nature  which  one  can  hardly  grasp  or  under- 
stand, flowed  together  into  one  full,  majestic  voice 
which  we  call  the  silence  of  the  night,"  which  men 
disturbed  by  the  preparation  for  battle,  he  asked 
himself : "  Is  it  really  so  hard  for  men  to  live  in  this 
glorious  world,  under  this  immeasurable,  starry 
sky  ?  Is  it  possible  that  in  the  midst  of  this  en- 
chanting nature,  the  human  soul  can  harbor  feel- 
ings of  envy  and  revenge  or  the  desire  to  exter- 
minate a  like  being?  It  seems  to  me  that  all  the 
evil  must  disappear  out  of  the  heart  at  the  touch 
with  nature,  that  immediate  expression  of  the 
beautiful  and  the  good." 

In  the  year  1851  Tolstoy  came  to  the  Caucasus, 
burdened  by  his  conscience  and  his  debts.  He  lived 

57 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

in  the  simplest  way  possible,  among  the  people,  to 
whom  he  now  gave  himself  as  utterly  and  unself- 
ishly as  he  had  given  himself  in  Yasnaya  Polyana. 
He  paid  five  dollars  a  month  rent  for  a  peasant's 
isba,  lived  on  black  bread  and  the  meat  which  he 
brought  from  the  hunt,  and  listened  ardently  to 
the  simple  speech  of  his  companions,  drawing  for 
mental  and  spiritual  strength  upon  everything 
which  touched  him.  In  company  with  a  simple- 
minded  Cossack  he  tramped  through  isolated  re- 
gions; and  one  day  after  having  caught  a  hawk 
(which  is  used  in  the  Caucasus  for  hunting  pur- 
poses), and  being  much  elated  over  it,  he  came 
quite  unexpectedly  upon  an  officer  who  proved 
to  be  his  near  relative  and  an  adjutant  to  the 
commanding  general.  He  persuaded  Tolstoy  to 
take  service  in  the  army ;  and  after  some  difficulty 
with  the  authorities  about  his  papers,  he  passed 
the  necessary  examination  at  Tiflis  and  donned 
the  soldier's  uniform.  He  became  a  non-commis- 
sioned officer  in  an  artillery  regiment  which  was 
stationed  on  the  Terek  River,  a  tumultuous  moun- 
tain stream,  on  whose  shores  lived  an  equally  un- 
tamed and  rebellious  people,  the  natives  of  the 
Caucasus,  who  always  "  fought  for  freedom  on 

58 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

the  heights."  They  carried  on  an  unsuccessful 
guerrilla  warfare  which  kept  the  Russian  army- 
busy  for  decades,  and  gave  many  a  young  soldier 
his  baptism  of  fire.  Although  the  service  was 
dangerous  and  at  times  arduous,  it  did  not  keep 
the  busy  mind  of  Tolstoy  sufficiently  engaged. 
Much  as  he  loved  the  wild  life  he  lived  and  the 
close  touch  with  the  Russian  soldiers,  of  whom  he 
was  always  fond,  he  was  tortured  by  homesickness; 
and  Yasnaya  Polyana  with  its  white  birch  forests, 
its  gentle  undulations  and  its  simple  peasant  folk 
was  often  before  his  eyes.  It  was  perhaps  natural 
that  when  death  so  often  stared  him  in  the  face, 
he  should  think  much  of  his  childhood  and  that 
he  should  desire  to  fasten  these  pictures  upon 
paper.  So  he  wrote  his  first  story  in  a  soldier's 
tent,  little  dreaming  of  his  literary  career  or  the 
success  of  these  simple  memories  of  his  early 
years.  On  the  5th  of  July,  1852,  he  sent  the  story 
'*My  Childhood"  to  St.  Petersburg,  where  it 
was  immediately  accepted  as  the  first  attempt  of 
a  great  genius  who  later  verified  all  expectations. 
On  the  25th  of  November  he  received  a  very  en- 
couraging letter  from  his  publisher ;  and  by  the 
light  of  the  camp-fire  he  saw  himself  proclaimed 

59 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

a  successful  author,  although  without  pay,  for 
there  was  no  check  inclosed. 

He  had  not  waited  to  hear  the  fate  of  his  first 
work,  but  by  this  time  had  already  sketched  "The 
Mornings  of  a  Russian  Land-owner"  and  "My 
Boyhood,"  the  last  named  to  be  a  continuation  of 
"  My  Childhood  "  and  part  of  a  long  story  in  auto- 
biographical form  which  was  to  reach  its  culmina- 
tion in  "Manhood."  This  work,  however,  was 
never  completed. 

The  period  in  which  Tolstoy  began  his  liter- 
ary career  was  an  important  one  in  the  history 
of  Russian  letters.  Dostoyef sky,  Gogolj,  and  Tur- 
genieff  had  dipped  their  pens  into  the  blood- 
drops  of  the  serf  and  the  exile,  and  had  written 
in  a  prophetic  way  of  "  the  hurt  of  my  people." 
They  had  cut  loose  Russian  literature  from  the 
romanticism  of  Schiller  and  Byron,  and  had  given 
the  world  pictures,  not  of  the  passions  of  the 
flesh,  but  of  the  thralldom  of  "  Dead  Souls."  So 
the  way  was  prepared  for  Tolstoy,  and  his  star 
rose  upon  a  night  which  already  had  written 
upon  it  the  prophecy  of  a  brighter  morning. 
"  May  God  grant  Tolstoy  a  long  life,  and  I  hope 
he  will  surprise  us  yet,  for  his  is  a  talent  of  the 

60 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

first  order."  So  wrote  Turgenieff  to  a  friend,  at 
the  time  of  Tolstoy's  debut  as  an  author.  In- 
deed, this  first  effort,  which  scarcely  can  be  called 
a  story,  had  in  it  not  only  the  prophecy  of 
greater  things,  but  also  their  foundations.  With 
truth  and  sincerity  he  struck  the  first  note  about 
the  self  and  the  inner  life,  and  it  vibrates  in  all 
his  works  with  growing  strength.  This  is  as 
rare  in  literature  as  it  is  in  life ;  but  the  desire 
for  an  open  confession,  for  perfect  self-exami- 
nation and  purification,  which  is  so  characteris- 
tic of  Tolstoy's  literary  life,  manifests  itself  in 
this,  his  first  work.  The  little  boy,  Nikolenka, 
stands  at  the  cofiin  of  his  mother  and  thus 
describes  his  feelings :  "  I  was  very  miserable 
because  my  new  coat,  which  they  had  put  on 
me,  was  so  uncomfortable  around  the  shoulders ; 
I  was  careful  not  to  get  my  trousers  dusty, 
and  I  stealthily  examined  all  my  surroundings." 
Older  people  than  Nikolenka  have  felt  the  same 
way,  but  they  have  never  confessed  it.  The  con- 
trast which  Tolstoy  has  drawn  between  the  Prin- 
cess Kornakova,  Prince  Ivan  Ivanovitch,  and  the 
common  people  around  them ;  the  half -educated 
tutor,  the  peasant  Grisha,  and  the  dear  old  nurse 

6i 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

reveal  that  love  and  appreciation  of  the  "  other 
half"  which  has  given  to  his  life  its  direction, 
and  has  made  him  the  revealer  of  the  Russian 
mujik. 

Another  characteristic  of  his  later  works  also 
manifests  itself  here,  in  his  hatred  of  common- 
place phrases :  he  loves  and  admires  the  genu- 
ine. Nikolenka,  the  hero  of  his  first  story,  says  : 
"The  words  of  comfort,  that  it  is  well  with  her 
over  there,  and  that  she  was  too  good  for  this 
world,  —  roused  in  me  the  feeling  of  anger." 
But  in  the  comer  of  the  hall  he  sees  the  old 
nurse  kneeling ;  she  does  not  weep,  but  mutely 
stretches  out  her  hand  toward  God ;  and  he  re- 
alizes that  she  alone  loved  his  mother  truly.  He 
goes  to  her  and  finds  comfort  because  she  is 
really  bowed  by  grief,  and  is  not  mourning  to 
be  seen  by  others.  Speaking  of  her  death,  he 
says:  "She  dies  peacefully,  without  regret  and 
without  fear,  because  she  has  retained  her  sim- 
ple, childlike  faith,  and  because  her  life  has 
been  according  to  the  law  of  the  Gospel,  with  all 
its  sacrifices  and  labors." 

Thus  early,  Tolstoy  recognized  the  spirit  of 
that  Gospel  whose  herald  he  was  to  be,  and 

62 


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jf^'^'^. 


.. ) ;' 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

which  he  also  would  try  to  live  in  all  its  sim- 
plicity and  with  all  its  rigor.  Yet,  unconscious 
of  the  great  future  before  him,  he  asked  himself 
at  the  close  of  the  story  of  his  childhood,  "  Has 
Providence  united  me  to  these  two  souls  only  to 
let  me  mourn  for  them  ?  " 

The  next  story,  "  Mornings  of  a  Landed  Pro- 
prietor," was  still  only  a  picture  of  his  own 
soul  life  into  which  the  portraiture  of  other 
characters  scarcely  entered.  It  was  to  remain 
practically  the  groundwork  of  all  his  stories ;  as 
he  was  to  tell  only  what  he  saw  with  his  own 
eyes  and  felt  in  his  own  heart.  He  experienced 
everything  which  happened  to  his  characters; 
and  instinctively,  one  feels  that  what  he  has 
written  is  in  a  large  measure  the  autobiography 
of  his  own  soul.  In  the  "  Mornings  of  a  Landed 
Proprietor"  he  shows  us  the  first  noble  passions 
of  his  life,  and  to  purify  that  life  by  self-denial 
and  sacrifice,  to  become  a  stepping-stone  for 
his  neighbor's  good,  to  enter  into  the  huts  and 
hearts  of  the  lowly,  these  are  the  first  struggle, 
the  first  great  battle  in  which  he  is  driven  back, 
but  not  defeated. 

Although  there  was  the  momentary  reaction 
63 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

in  his  aspirations,  he  finds  in  the  Caucasus  his 
full  strength,  and  his  soul  again  rises  Godward  ; 
in  spite  of  towering  mountains,  his  keen  eyes 
see  the  poor,  struggling  mountaineer;  and  in 
spite  of  the  battle,  where  drums  beat  and  flags 
wave,  he  sees  nothing  but  the  soldiers,  and 
hears  nothing  but  the  voices  of  the  living,  who 
are  soon  to  die.  Thus  his  stories  from  the 
battles  in  the  Caucasus  plainly  show  their  deep 
human  interest.  In  "  The  Sortie,  the  Story  of  a 
Volunteer,"  the  only  story  of  the  Caucasus 
which  he  completed  there,  Tolstoy  tenderly  and 
sympathetically  draws  the  Russian  soldier  with 
all  his  faults  and  virtues.  In  Captain  Chlopoff, 
who  came  up  from  the  people,  he  personifies 
the  genuine  Russian  soul,  uncomplaining,  not 
boastful,  and  perfectly  honest.  The  captain 
serves  in  the  Caucasus,  as  he  frankly  con- 
fesses, not  because  of  his  love  of  war  or  of 
honor,  but  because  of  the  war  pay,  with  which 
he  supports  an  aged  mother  and  his  only  sister. 
When  he  defines  bravery  as  "doing  what  one 
ought  to  do,"  Tolstoy's  sarcasm  strikes  the  man 
who  is  vainly  boastful.  In  contrast  to  the  French- 
men who  have  uttered  memorable  words  in  the 

64 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

face  of  death,  he  says :  "  Between  their  bravery 
and  the  captain's  there  is  this  difference :  in 
case  a  lofty  thought  should  move  in  the  breast 
of  my  hero,  he  would  not  express  it ;  first,  be- 
cause of  a  fear  that  if  he  uttered  the  great 
word  he  might  spoil  the  great  work ;  and  sec- 
ondly, because  when  a  man  feels  in  himself 
strength  for  a  great  work,  he  finds  words  su- 
perfluous." In  this  story  Tolstoy  draws  for  the 
first  time  the  horrors  of  war ;  and  already  we 
recognize  in  him  a  soul  which,  although  brave, 
and  without  fear  of  death,  shrinks  not  only  from 
the  suffering  of  others,  but  even  from  describ- 
ing it.  The  first  bullet  that  strikes  human  flesh 
immediately  destroys  for  him  the  interesting 
picture  of  the  battle.  "Why  should  I  tell  the 
details  of  this  terrible  spectacle,"  he  asks,  "  when 
I  would  give  much  to  forget  all  about  it  my- 
self ? "  Yet  with  a  few  broad  strokes,  without 
much  color  or  detail,  he  tells  us  everything.  A 
young  lieutenant  just  from  the  school  bench, 
with  the  traditional  idea  of  bravery  in  his  mind, 
throws  himself  at  the  foe  hidden  in  the  forest. 
He  is  accompanied  by  about  thirty  soldiers,  who 
soon  come  back,  carrying  the  wounded  oflScer.  To 

65 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

the  encouraging  jests  with  which  he  is  met  by 
his  comrades,  he  scarcely  gives  an  answer.  The 
surgeon,  ready  for  work,  rolls  up  his  sleeves, 
and  with  a  stereotyped  smile  says  :  "It  seems  to 
have  blown  a  hole  into  your  skin ;  let  us  see." 
The  lieutenant  tries  to  sit  up,  but  the  look  which 
he  gives  the  physician,  although  unnoticed  by 
him,  is  full  of  surprise  and  accusation.  The  sur- 
geon begins  to  examine  the  wound  from  every 
side ;  but  the  injured  man  loses  his  patience,  and 
pushes  his  hand  back  with  a  heavy  sigh.  "  Leave 
me,"  he  says,  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice  ;  "  never 
mind  me,  I  am  dying ; "  and  in  five  minutes  this 
first  tragedy  of  the  battlefield  is  over. 

Still  deeper  out  of  his  Caucasus  experience 
Tolstoy  drew  two  other  sketches :  "  The  Wood- 
cutters," and  "The  Meeting  with  a  Moscow  Ac- 
quaintance." In  the  first  story  he  sharply  char- 
acterizes the  Russian  soldiers  and  divides  them 
into  three  main  classes :  the  obedient,  the  com- 
manding, and  the  reckless.  He  uses  the  story 
to  draw  each  class,  doing  it  with  such  skill  that 
we  at  once  feel  ourselves  acquainted  with  all  of 
them.  He  does  not  analyze  or  describe  the  char- 
acter, but  he  shows  us  the  man  through  a  word 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

which  he  speaks  or  the  work  which  he  does.  In 
the  second  sketch  he  describes  an  aristocratic 
youth,  fallen  to  the  lowest  level,  with  all  man- 
hood crushed  out  of  him  by  his  vicious  life. 
This  is  a  type  not  rare  in  Russia,  and  which 
may  be  found  wherever  the  scum  of  society 
settles.  Nechludoff,  the  narrator  of  the  story, 
had  met  this  youth  three  or  four  years  before, 
in  the  home  of  his  sister,  which  was  one  of  the 
best  in  Moscow ;  and  this  short  time  had  sufficed 
to  bring  him  so  low  that  now  he  is  a  drunkard, 
a  companion  of  the  lowest  camp-followers,  and 
quite  incapable  of  thinking  an  honest  thought. 
Tolstoy  has  often  in  later  stories  pictured  just 
such  cases,  in  which  men  fell  suddenly  from  the 
highest  planes  of  culture  to  the  lowest  depths, 
and  he  always  shows  that  keen  insight  which 
comes  from  personal  experience  and  contact  with 
those  unfortunate  and  sinful  ones,  who  found 
him  ever  ready  to  help  and  to  sympathize.  In 
his  portrayal  of  such  men,  one  always  feels 
that  although  he  does  not  spare  them  in  de- 
picting their  faults,  their  deep,  inner  decayed 
self,  he  does  it  with  the  thought,  "  it  might  have 
been  I ;"  and  one  cannot  despise  them,  although 

67 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

they  are  far  from  lovable.  Moreover,  they  are  to 
represent  a  class,  that  higher  class  of  Moscow 
and  St.  Petersburg,  where  culture  is  at  its  best 
and  worst,  where  lives  are  crushed  out  politely, 
where  fortunes  are  ruined  suavely,  and  where 
character  is  destroyed  without  breach  of  eti- 
quette. Tolstoy  puts  such  people  beside  the  poor 
and  ignorant,  who  have  not  lost  their  better 
selves  in  houses  of  many  rooms,  but  have  lived  in 
huts,  close  to  the  soil  and  close  to  God.  They 
did  not  search  for  glory,  neither  did  they  yield 
up  life  in  dishonor.  How  magnificent  is  that 
poor  common  soldier,  "Velentzuk,"  who  in  his 
death  agony  draws  out  his  pocket-book,  and 
wants  to  pay  his  debts ;  who,  always  honest, 
wishes  to  leave  this  life  an  honest  man  still. 
There  is  no  hypocrisy  about  this;  it  is  done 
simply,  naturally,  and  in  strong  contrast  to  those 
aristocratic  officers  who  can  speak  in  two  lan- 
guages and  not  keep  their  word  in  one. 

Although  in  these  stories  Tolstoy  deals  with 
one  subject,  war,  and  with  one  class,  the  soldier, 
he  does  not  describe  war  as  a  massing  of  troops, 
a  march  and  countermarch,  but  rather  as  a  strug- 
gle between  individuals.  Although  the  battlefield 

68 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

which  he  describes  in  other  stories  is  greater 
and  the  strife  involves  nations,  he  never  loses 
this  peculiarity  which  gives  his  stories  such  charm 
and  adds  not  a  little  to  their  horror.  Moreover, 
he  is  never  intoxicated  by  powder  smoke,  by  the 
waving  of  flags,  or  by  the  fervor  of  patriotism ; 
he  does  not  gloat  over  the  slain  of  the  foe,  nor 
does  he  weep  over  a  lost  cause.  He  sees  war  as 
one  might  see  it  who  belongs  to  both  sides; 
and  to  him  blood  and  tears  have  the  same  color, 
no  matter  under  what  flag  they  are  shed. 

Confessedly  out  of  this  Caucasus  period,  though 
written  much  better,  comes  his  first  long  and  well- 
rounded  story,  "  The  Cossacks."  Most  of  the  in- 
cidents in  it  were  told  him  by  an  officer  during  a 
night's  journey,  but  he  has  concentrated  every- 
thing upon  his  hero,  in  whom  we  quickly  recognize 
the  author  himself.  Olenin,  as  the  hero  is  called, 
is  a  youth  of  twenty-four  years  who  has  learned 
much,  but  knows  very  little ;  who  has  planned  to 
do  great  things  and  has  never  accomplished  any- 
thing. At  the  age  of  eighteen,  he  had  no  burdens, 
no  responsibilities,  and  gave  no  bounds  to  his 
physical  and  moral  excesses.  He  had  faith  in  no- 
thing, and  hoped  for  nothing ;  he  had  no  family, 

69 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

no  God,  and  no  fatherland.  He  did  not  believe  in 
women,  yet  hungered  inwardly  for  love ;  he  looked 
down  upon  earthly  honor,  yet  was  glad  when  a 
prince  spoke  to  him.  He  devoted  himself  to  art, 
to  society,  and  to  work  only  until  it  became  labor. 
Suddenly  he  drops  everything  and  goes  to  the 
Caucasus,  drawn  by  visions  of  fair  women,  high 
mountains,  and  freedom ;  and  there,  faraway  from 
his  Moscow  acquaintances,  he  begins  the  new  life, 
conscious  that  the  old  one  was  wrong  and  that 
he  has  lived  to  no  purpose.  He  comes  into  the 
home  of  a  Cossack  officer,  makes  the  acquaint- 
ance of  his  beautiful  daughter,  and  promptly  falls 
in  love  with  her.  He  also  meets  her  lover,  Luk- 
ashka,  the  bravest  young  Cossack  of  the  camp ; 
and  above  all,  he  gains  the  friendship  of  the 
hunter,  Yeroshka,  whose  simple  philosophy  of 
life  so  impresses  him  that  he  decides  to  throw  off 
everything  of  the  past  and  remain  in  this  wilder-  ^ 
ness.  Nevertheless,  he  realizes  that  his  aim  in 
life  is  other  than  theirs,  and  that  an  unbridgable 
gtilf  divides  them.  He  learns  this  through  Mar- 
yanka,  the  girl  whom  he  passionately  loves,  but 
who  cannot  in  the  least  respond  to  his  feelings,  so 
he  leaves  the  camp,  and  as  his  troyka  is  about  to 

70 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

start,  Maryanka  steps  to  the  door  without  showing 
the  least  sign  of  emotion. 

Two  thoughts  which  began  to  manifest  them- 
selves in  his  first  story  come  out  strongly  in  "The 
Cossacks,"  and  increase  in  power  in  every  one  of 
his  future  works.  First,  the  purification  and  de- 
velopment of  the  self  through  casting  off  the  preju- 
dices and  evil  effects  of  our  culture ;  and  secondly, 
that  where  such  culture  has  not  penetrated,  we 
find  the  virtues  which  society  must  make  its 
own  for  the  sake  of  its  true  growth  and  salvation. 
These  two  thoughts  he  brings  out  everywhere  in 
the  same  way — the  first  by  that  sharp  analysis 
of  the  self  in  which  he  sees  not  only  himself  but 
all  the  people  of  his  class  caught  in  the  same 
meshes,  spoiled  by  the  same  culture,  and  whom  he 
unsparingly  analyzes,  probes  and  condemns.  The 
second  thought  he  develops  by  drawing  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  common  people  whom  he  sees 
unspoiled,  as  they  came  from  the  hands  of  the 
creator.  As  a  sculptor  who  finds  the  proper  clay 
and  tenderly  and  firmly  touches  and  moulds  it, 
he  uses  this  coarse  material  to  show  what  in  it  is 
lovely ;  yet  forgetting  that,  like  the  sculptor,  he 
himself  often  creates  that  beauty. 

71 


CHAPTER  V 

SEBASTOPOL 

In  1853  Tolstoy  left  the  Caucasus,  more  dissatis- 
fied with  himself  than  ever.  Love  and  war  had 
destroyed  the  quiet  and  the  peace  which  he  had 
enjoyed  the  first  few  months,  and  his  awakened 
and  appreciated  talent  had  worked  havoc  with  his 
decision  to  live  always  among  the  Cossacks.  The 
desire  for  self-effacement  gave  place  to  a  conscious 
craving  for  an  audience,  and  he  left  the  lonely 
mountain  regions  for  Moscow  and  Yasnaya  Pol- 
yana.  He  found  Russia  on  the  eve  of  the  Crimean 
war,  which  brought  so  little  glory  to  the  victors  and 
so  much  untold  suffering  to  all  the  nations  involved 
in  it.  Tolstoy  asked  to  be  reassigned  to  the  army, 
and  it  speaks  much  for  his  courage  that  he  asked 
to  be  sent  to  the  division  on  the  Danube  which  was 
then  face  to  face  with  the  opposing  Turk.  After 
a  brief  visit  to  Yasnaya,  he  went  by  way  of  Buka- 
rest  to  his  regiment,  where  in  its  attempt  to  keep 
Omar  Pasha  from  crossing  the  Danube  it  suffered 

72 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

its  first  defeat.  Tolstoy  was  also  present  at  the 
siege  of  Silistra,  where  Turkish  soldiers  under 
German  officers,  after  defending  the  fortification 
which  was  almost  blown  to  pieces,  drove  the  be- 
sieging army  across  the  Pruth  and  the  Danube. 
From  Silistra  he  went  to  Yassy,  and  from  there 
to  the  Crimea  and  the  besieged  Sebastopol  which 
was  the  center  of  the  war,  the  gateway  into  Russia. 
Before  its  walls  the  allied  armies  of  England, 
France,  Sardinia  and  Turkey  lay  for  eleven  months, 
struggling  with  the  resistant  Russian  soldiers,  who, 
behind  the  earthworks  thrown  up  hastily,  fought 
bravely  and  with  renewed  zeal,  in  spite  of  the 
never-ceasing  and  murderous  fire  of  the  enemy. 
In  three  sketches, "  Sebastopol,  December  1854, 
May  1855,  and  August  1855,"  Tolstoy  describes 
his  experiences  during  the  eleven  months  of  the 
siege,  during  which  he  was  commander  of  an 
artillery  brigade  and  present  in  every  important 
engagement.  He  leads  the  reader  through  the 
city  while  it  has  not  yet  quite  lost  its  semblance 
to  a  place  of  residence  for  human  beings ;  he  sees 
the  scattered  reminders  of  war,  the  stranded  ships 
in  the  harbor,  the  ruins  of  the  Russian  fleet,  sunk 
to  bar  the  waterway  for  the  enemies'  vessels, 

73 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

soldiers  marching  to  their  new  post  to  relieve  some 
worn-out,  decimated  regiment,  or,  saddest  sight  of 
all,  a  Tartar's  cart  loaded  heavily  with  the  bodies 
of  the  slain,  carried  to  their  last  resting-place 
without  honor  or  ceremony.  From  afar,  like  the 
roll  of  thunder,  comes  the  noise  of  belching  guns, 
and  he  cannot  help  a  momentary  feeling  of  pride 
that  he,  too,  is  in  Sebastopol.  The  war  which  he 
was  now  to  experience  was  to  change  somewhat 
his  view  of  the  Russian  officers,  for  here  they  were 
not  adventurers,  as  in  the  Caucasus,  but  defenders 
of  the  Fatherland,  and  he  sees  the  same  feeling 
of  earnestness  "and  devotion  in  the  driver  of  the 
cart,  the  common  soldier,  and  the  white-gloved 
officer.  Upon  the  streets  there  is  nothing  to 
prove  the  necessity  for  extraordinary  valor,  but  he 
leads  us  immediately  into  the  hospital,  a  former 
clubhouse ;  he  opens  the  door,  and  we  shrink  from 
entering,  for  we  are  driven  back  by  the  spectacle 
which  presents  itself  and  by  the  odors  which 
penetrate  our  nostrils.  "  But  go  on,"  he  says ; 
"  unfortunate  people  like  to  see  a  face  which  pities 
them ; "  and  he  leads  us  bravely  from  bed  to  bed 
while  hesitatingly  he  enters  into  conversation 
with  one  and  another  of  the  patients.  "  Where  are 

74 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

you  hurt?"  "In  the  leg," is  the  answer,  and  we 
notice  that  the  leg  is  gone.  Simply  the  soldier  tells 
the  story  of  his  wounding,  but  omits  the  fact  that 
after  he  was  shot  he  refused  to  leave  the  ranks 
until  he  saw  whether  the  guns  which  he  had 
helped  to  load  did  some  damage  to  the  enemy ; 
and  that  in  spite  of  his  lost  leg  he  is  eager  to  go 
back  to  teach  the  young  soldiers  how  to  shoot. 
Farther  and  farther  we  go,  until  we  reach  the  oper- 
ating-room and  come  face  to  face  with  the  real 
tragedies  of  war,  after  which  he  stops,  and  says : 
"You  will  witness  terrible  and  heart-rending 
scenes,  you  will  see  war,  —  not  in  its  scientific, 
beautiful,  and  glittering  order,  with  bugle-call 
and  drum-beat,  with  waving  flags  and  generals  on 
prancing  horses, — but  war  in  its  reality,  in  blood, 
in  suffering,  in  death." 

From  the  hospital  the  reader  is  led  to  the  fourth 
bastion,  and  there  sees  the  brave  defenders  of 
Sebastopol  at  work,  dodging  the  bombs  and  bul- 
lets which  come  thick  as  hail  and  which  strike 
and  destroy  the  defenses  and  the  defenders.  Tol- 
stoy stood  at  this  most  dangerous  post  for  many 
months,  every  moment  on  the  brink  of  eternity. 
What  he  saw  and  what  he  felt  here  was  nearly 

75 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

always  the  human,  and  seldom  the  historic ;  the 
canvases  he  paints  are  small,  and  he  stints  the 
color ;  for  he  knows  that  only  the  superficial  ob- 
server can  see  anything  beautiful  in  war.  Yet  he, 
too,  sees  something  of  beauty,  —  not  in  march  or 
countermarch,  in  cloud  of  smoke  or  flying  bombs, 
but  in  the  courage  of  the  men,  the  bravery  with 
which  they  do  their  duty,  the  fearlessness  with 
which  they  meet  death.  He  was  very  much  re- 
spected and  loved  by  the  soldiers,  for  he  was  a 
faithful  officer,  a  good  comrade ;  and  in  spite  of 
the  prevailing  sadness  could  bring  a  trace  of  joy 
to  the  camp-fire.  A  captain  who  served  with  him 
thus  describes  him :  "  With  his  stories  and  his 
extemporized  verses  the  Count  cheered  us  all  and 
made  us  forget  the  hardships  of  war.  He  was  in 
the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  the  soul  of  the 
whole  battery.  When  he  was  in  our  midst  we  did 
not  realize  how  quickly  the  time  passed  ;  when 
he  was  absent,  all  the  comrades  felt  blue ;  when 
he  returned,  he  came  like  the  prodigal  son  and 
confessed  everything :  how  much  he  had  lost  at 
cards,  how  much  he  had  drunk,  and  where  and 
how  he  had  spent  his  days  and  nights.  His  con- 
science troubled  him  and  he  acted  as  if  he  had 

76 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

committed  the  greatest  crimes ;  so  that  one  had 
to  pity  the  poor  fellow.  As  a  man  he  was,  in  one 
word,  a  queer  fellow ;  and  I  must  confess  it,  I  did 
not  understand  him ;  nevertheless,  he  was  a  splen- 
did comrade,  an  honest  soul,  and  he  had  a  golden 
heart.  Whoever  came  really  near  to  him  had  to 
like  and  could  not  forget  him."  Indeed  he  was 
a  "good  comrade,"  for  it  was  he  who  startled 
Russia  by  the  story  of  its  common  soldiers'  suffer- 
ing and  of  their  uncommon  bravery.  Not  in  bas- 
tions, mines,  and  guns  he  discovers  Russia's 
strength,  but  in  the  spirit  of  its  defenders. 
"They  cannot  do  this,"  he  says,  "because  of 
their  love  of  a  decoration,  or  because  of  fame,  or 
because  they  are  driven  to  it  —  they  suffer  and 
die  because  deep  in  the  heart  of  every  Russian 
'there  is  a  great  passion,  a  love  for  the  Father- 
land." 

In  Russia  this  story  created  a  great  sensation ; 
the  empress  wept  over  it,  and  the  czar,  Nicholas 
L,  gave  order  to  have  this  young  man  kept  in 
view,  and  to  remove  him  from  his  dangerous 
post  in  the  Fourth  Battery.  Tolstoy's  heart  and 
mind  were  busy,  for  in  the  tumult  of  war  he  not 
only  wrote  the  first  sketch,  "Sebastopol  in  May," 

77 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

but  he  also  continued  to  work  upon  his  Cauca- 
sus material.  After  a  blundering  attack  upon 
the  enemy,  in  which  the  Russians  were  driven 
back  with  severe  losses,  a  song  was  heard  at  the 
camp-fires  ;  a  song  in  which  in  a  caustic  and  hu- 
morous way  Tolstoy  described  the  encounter.  The 
verse  has  no  poetic  merit :  it  is  a  mere  jingle, 
and  not  really  a  good  one,  but  I  have  translated 
it  because  it  is  his  only  effort  in  that  direction 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  verses  to  his  friend 
Fjett,  which  are  of  the  same  quality. 

How  we,  on  the  4th  of  something, 
Carried  by  the  Devil's  prompting. 
Went  to  rob  the  mountain. 

Baron  Wrevsky,^  full  of  drink. 
Tried  to  make  Gorcakof  ^  think 
He  must  do  his  bidding. 

"  Prince  I  oh,  follow  my  advice, 
If  you  think  about  it  twice, 
I  will  make  report." 

Then  the  whole  staff  came  together, 
With  trailing  sword  and  shining  leather 
And  Major  N.  Bekok. 

^  General. 

2  Commander  of  Sebastopol. 

78 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

And  the  wise  and  brave  Bekok 
Sat  there  like  a  stupid  block ; 
Could  not  give  an  answer. 

Long  they  talked  and  gave  advicBf 
Topographs  then  drew  plans  nice, 
On  a  sheet  of  paper. 

Very  smooth  and  very  fine 
Looked  on  paper  every  line, 
Ravines  they  had  forgotten. 

Princes,  Counts,  to  see  the  sport, 
Rode  as  far  as  the  big  fort. 
With  the  topographs. 

"  Hey,  Liprandi,^  storm  the  height ! " 
He  said,  "  Thank  you  "  (in  great  fright), 
"  I  would  rather  not. 

**  With  sense  we  cannot  do  this  thing. 
Read  ^  alone  can  vict'ry  bring. 
Let  me  see  him  do  it." 

Read  with  courage  goes  along. 
Soldiers  follow  with  a  song : 
"  Hurrah  I  to  the  bridge." 

Martinau  is  vainly  pleading, 
"  Wait  for  cavalry's  relieving ; " 
"  No,  go  storm  the  heights." 

*  General. 
^  General  Read. 
79 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

On  they  go  with  song  and  cheer, 
But  the  horsemen  are  not  here, 
Some  one  made  a  blunder. 

Regiments  went  up  the  height ; 
Driven  back  in  sorry  plight. 
Companies  returned. 

Bravely  there  we  held  our  place, 
But  of  succor  not  a  trace. 
Though  we  gave  the  signal. 

With  holy  zeal  the  general  prayed, 
In  safe  and  sacred  spot  he  stayed 
Before  the  Virgin  Mother. 

Beaten  worse  than  we  can  tell, 
Him  who  led  us  hither. 

If  the  author's  name  had  been  mentioned,  these 
verses  would  have  cut  short  Tolstoy's  military- 
career,  although  he  was  not  their  originator. 
After  the  unsuccessful  attack,  the  officers  sat 
around  the  watch-fire  talking  it  over,  when  some 
one  suggested  that  each  in  turn  compose  a  verse 
about  the  affair,  which  was  so  tragic  and  yet  so 
ridiculous.  The  idea  was  taken  up  and  created 
no  end  of  fun,  but  the  poem  did  not  materialize. 

80 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

The  next  day  Tolstoy  brought  these  verses,  which 
were  received  with  applause  and  soon  were  on 
every  one's  lips,  making  the  lives  of  the  gen- 
erals mentioned  in  them  far  from  comfortable. 
The  verses  are  nowhere  mentioned  in  Tolstoy's 
works,  and  to-day  he  laughs  when  they  are  spoken 
of,  remembering  them  only  as  one  of  his  boyish 
pranks,  for  which  there  was  little  opportunity 
during  those  months  in  which  he  was  daily  the 
companion  of  men  "who  were  about  to  die." 
"  Six  months,"  he  writes  in  his  "  Sebastopol  in 
May,"  "have  passed  since  the  first  bullet  whistled 
across  and  demolished  the  earthworks  thrown 
up  by  the  enemy ;  since  that  time  thousands  of 
bombs,  cannon-balls,  and  bullets  have  flown  from 
the  fort  to  the  earthworks,  and  from  the  earth- 
works to  the  fort ;  the  death  angel  has  hovered 
over  them  unceasingly,  .  .  .  and  the  question 
which  statesmen  could  not  answer  has  not  yet 
found  its  solution  through  powder  and  shot." 

Still  the  band  plays  on  the  boulevard  as  in  time 
of  peace,  while  officers,  gayly  dressed  women  and 
children  walk  about  with  a  holiday  air.  Tolstoy 
makes  us  acquainted  with  Captain  Michailof, 
who  goes  for  the  thirteenth  time  to  the  battery, 

8i 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

is  depressed  by  the  unlucky  number,  and  full 
of  apprehension.  He  has  gone  voluntarily  to 
this  dangerous  post,  and  in  him  struggle  bravery 
and  fear,  humility  and  pride,  the  desire  to  Hve 
and  the  horror  of  death.  We  follow,  too,  an- 
other officer,  Kalugin,  who  seeks  honor,  glory,  and 
shelter.  Unsurpassed  in  deep  and  quiet  tragedy 
is  the  death  of  Praskuchin,  an  officer  who  fol- 
lows Michailof  to  the  most  dangerous  place  on 
the  battery,  and  there  is  struck  by  an  exploding 
bomb.  "  The  second  which  passed  between  the 
lighting  of  the  bomb  and  its  explosion  seemed 
an  hour,  and  sharp,  short,  and  conflicting  are 
the  thoughts  which  pass  through  his  mind." 
"  Perhaps  it  will  not  explode  at  all,"  he  says  to 
himself,  when  through  his  shut  eyelids  there 
penetrates  a  red  flame,  and  with  a  dreadful  crash 
something  heavy  strikes  his  breast.  "  Thank  God, 
I  am  only  wounded,"  was  his  first  thought,  and 
he  wanted  to  feel  his  breast,  but  his  hands  seemed 
to  be  chained,  and  a  peculiar  weight  pressed  his 
head.  He  counts,  "one,  two,  three  soldiers,  and 
there  is  an  officer  with  his  mantle  thrown  back. 
Lightning  flames  in  his  eyes,  and  he  wonders 
with  what  they  are  shooting,  mortars  or  guns. 

82 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

It  must  be  guns.  Again  they  are  shooting,  and 
again  there  are  soldiers,  five,  six,  seven,  and 
they  all  pass  by.  Suddenly  the  fear  rose  in  him 
that  they  might  crush  him.  He  wished  to  call 
out  that  he  was  wounded,  but  his  mouth  was  so 
dry  that  his  tongue  clove  to  his  gums,  and  a 
dreadful  thirst  tortured  him.  He  felt  his  breast 
wet ;  it  reminded  him  of  water,  and  he  would 
have  liked  to  drink  that  from  which  came  the 
sensation.  He  summoned  all  his  strength  and 
tried  to  call  out :  'Lift  me  up;'  but  instead  of 
that  he  only  groaned,  which  was  terrible  for 
him  to  hear.  Then  little  red  flames  danced  be- 
fore his  eyes,  and  he  felt  as  if  soldiers  laid 
stones  upon  him,  and  they  took  his  breath  more 
and  more ;  he  attempted  to  push  the  stones  away, 
he  stretched  himself,  and  already  he  saw  no- 
thing, felt  nothing,  thought  nothing ;  —  a  burst 
shell  had  struck  him  in  the  breast,  and  he  was 
killed  immediately." 

In  spite  of  dreadful  torture,  and  the  fear  of 
death  in  its  many  forms  which  Tolstoy  saw  and 
described,  he  was  for  a  moment  elated  by  the 
prevailing  patriotic  spirit,  and  says  :  "The  siege 
of  Sebastopol,  in  which  the  Russian  nation  was 

83 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

such  a  hero,  will  leave  its  trace  upon  Russia," 
but  in  the  same  breath  he  wonders  "whether 
war  is  not  a  mistake,  in  which  the  nations  are 
entangled  without  cause."  The  people  do  not 
hate  each  other;  watch  them  during  that  time 
when  the  "  white  flag  of  truce  waves  over  the 
blossoming  valley  which  is  covered  by  corpses." 
Many  thousands  of  people  push  against  one  an- 
other there;  smilingly  they  talk  to  each  other; 
two  men  who  meet  converse  together  in  a  most 
peaceful  way:  "  Are  you  from  the  staff  ?"  "No; 
I  am  from  the  Sixth  Infantry."  "Where  did 
you  buy  this  ?  "  "At  Balaklava."  "It  is  pretty," 
says  the  one  officer.  "  If  you  will  take  it  as  a 
memento  of  our  meeting,  you  are  welcome  to  it ; " 
and  the  polite  Frenchman  hands  the  cigarette- 
case  to  the  receptive  Russian,  who  in  turn  gives 
him  his  own.  They  are  pleased  by  this  episode, 
and  all  who  see  it  smile.  Thus  the  officers  talk 
one  to  the  other,  and  the  common  soldiers  meet 
their  comrades  with  still  less  ceremony.  "  Tabak 
bung,"  says  the  soldier  with  the  red  shirt ;  and 
the  bystanders  laugh.  "Oui;  bun  tabak  Turc 
and  Russ  tabak  bun?"  answers  the  Frenchman. 
"  Russ  bun,"  says  the  soldier  with  the  red  shirt ; 

84 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

and  all  around  them  laugh  so  heartily  that  they 
nearly  roll  on  the  ground.  "France  not  bun, 
bunshur,  mussyo,"  continues  the  soldier,  exhaust- 
ing his  stock  of  the  foreign  tongue,  and  good- 
naturedly  hitting  the  Frenchman  in  the  stomach. 
Thus  they  continue  to  laugh  together,  men  who 
poured  gunshot  at  one  another  an  hour  ago,  and 
who  will  do  the  same  thing  again  as  soon  as  the 
signal  is  given.  They  chat  and  laugh,  indiffer- 
ent to  the  tremendous  carnage  which  they  have 
strewn  about  them,  and  unconscious  of  the  great 
wrong  perpetrated  by  them  and  against  them. 

Here  Tolstoy  strikes  the  first  strong  note  of 
that  terrible  indictment  against  war,  which  was  to 
make  of  him  the  most  famous  peace  apostle  of  our 
times.  "And  these  Christians,"  he  says,  "who 
confess  the  same  Christian  law  of  love  and  self- 
sacrifice,  do  not  fall  repentingly  upon  their  knees 
at  the  sight  of  what  they  have  done.  The  white 
flags  are  drawn  in,  anew  the  instruments  of 
death  and  suffering  whistle  their  horrible  tune, 
and  one  hears  sighs  and  curses."  Again  he  leads 
us  to  "Sebastopol  in  May,"  and  still  more  fearful 
are  the  pictures  unrolled.  The  Russians  are  ex- 
hausted but  not  discouraged,  and  we  meet  the 

85 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

same  soldier,  brave  and  obedient,  who  has  in  him 
more  virtues  than  the  officers  know  or  care  to  know, 
and  who  goes  to  his  death  uncomplainingly.  We 
follow  two  brothers,  one  of  them  fresh  from  St. 
Petersburg,  where  he  "  was  ashamed  to  remain 
when  others  die  for  the  Fatherland."  He  finds  his 
company  on  the  Malachof  heights,  and  his  brother 
takes  leave  of  him  for  the  last  time.  That  day  ends 
the  siege,  and  brings  Sebastopol's  doom.  The  older 
brother  receives  his  death  wound,  and  as  the  chap- 
Iain  hands  him  the  cross,  he  asks : "  Have  we  beaten 
the  French  ?"  and  the  man  of  comfort,  who  does 
not  wish  to  pain  the  dying  man,  answers :  "  The 
victory  is  ours."  At  the  last  moment  the  soldier 
thinks  of  his  younger  brother,  wishing  him  to  share 
his  fate,  and  his  desire  is  fulfilled ;  for  the  young 
boy's  flesh  is  crushed  underneath  the  feet  of  the 
advancing  French. 

Sebastopol  is  to  be  evacuated,  the  remaining 
forts  are  blown  up,  and  slowly  the  columns  move 
into  the  impenetrable  darkness.  The  soldiers  leave 
the  place  with  mingled  feelings  of  shame,  regret, 
and  gratitude  that  their  lives  were  spared;  but 
as  each  man  passes  over  the  bridge  which  leads 
to  safety,  he  crosses  himself  and  then  shakes  his 

86 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

fist  at  the  victorious  foe.  Tolstoy  also  left  the 
battlefield,  and  after  acting  for  a  time  as  an  im- 
perial courier,  he  took  his  leave  of  the  army,  hav- 
ing seen  three  years  of  arduous  service.  It  was 
the  most  important  period  of  his  life ;  it  brought 
latent  thoughts  to  maturity,  it  increased  his  love 
for  the  common  man,  and  his  horror  of  war.  It 
gave  him  a  chance  to  see  humanity  at  its  best  and 
at  its  worst ;  he  had  helped  many  a  man  to  die, 
and  that  gave  him  an  increased  desire  to  live.  He 
seemed  to  have  had  a  glimpse  of  the  most  secret 
recesses  of  men's  hearts,  and  in  learning  to  know 
others,  he  learned  to  know  himself.  He  had  not 
as  yet  a  philosophy  of  life,  but  he  was  feeling 
after  it.  In  the  chaos  of  war  he  came  near  the 
true  source  of  peace ;  laurels,  too,  he  gained, 
upon  a  field  on  which  the  sword  had  been  sup- 
planted by  the  pen,  which  henceforth  was  to  be 
his  only  weapon. 


87 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN  ST.  PETERSBURG 

Russia  was  in  the  stage  of  fermentation.  The 
unfortunate  policy  of  Nicholas  had  brought  untold 
ruin  upon  all  classes,  which  sullenly  expressed 
their  discontent,  while  demanding  and  expecting 
relief.  Thirty-three  million  people,  the  bone  and 
sinew  of  Russia,  its  patient,  toiling  peasants,  were 
the  property  of  the  aristocrats,  who  with  their  in- 
creased burdens,  pressed  more  heavily  upon  the 
already  crushed  mujik.  During  the  disastrous 
Crimean  war  the  peasants  had  been  called  from 
their  far-off  villages  to  be  drilled  and  made  ready 
for  the  defense  of  their  country ;  their  drill-mas- 
ters were  pensioned  officers,  students,  artists, 
and  officials;  all  of  them  discontented.  Their 
spirit  quickly  communicated  itself  to  the  pea- 
santry, which  for  the  first  time  heard  a  complaint 
that  harmonized  with  its  own  repressed  feelings. 
Alexander  II.,  whose  humane  policy  will  always 
remain  like  the  touch  of  a  sunburst  upon  a  storm- 

88 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

laden  sky,  permitted  in  the  public  press  the  dis- 
cussion of  existing  wrongs  in  order  to  pacify  the 
discontented,  as  well  as  to  get  a  perspective  for 
his  own  plan  of  action.  In  the  capital  on  the  Neva 
had  gathered  Russia's  struggling  authors,  who  had 
been  caught  in  the  prevailing  upward  pressure,  and 
were  ready  to  write  the  wrongs  of  the  people 
and  to  dream  about  the  unknown  and  better  things 
before  them.  A  journal  founded  by  Puschkin,  and 
now  edited  by  Panaieff  and  Nekrassoff,gave  them 
the  battlefield  on  which  they  bravely  struggled 
against  Eastern  conservatism,  and  where  they 
broke  many  a  lance  for  Western  culture.  To  us, 
the  names  of  Turgenieff  and  Dostoyefsky,  who 
were  the  leaders  of  the  movement,  are  warrants 
of  its  literary  standard ;  and  that  Tolstoy  was 
immediately  received  into  this  circle  as  an  equal 
shows  to  what  heights  he  had  risen  while  alter- 
nately wielding  the  sword  and  the  pen.  He  came 
to  St.  Petersburg  from  the  deprivations  of  a  be- 
sieged city,  and  drew  in  with  deep  breath  all  that  it 
could  yield  him.  He  soon  made  the  acquaintance 
of  Turgenieff,  who  was  then  at  the  height  of  his 
literary  fame  and  known  beyond  the  boundaries 
of  his  own  country ;  not  a  trace  of  jealousy  was 

89 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

visible  in  him,  although  he  saw  in  Tolstoy  a  rising 
literary  star,  an  equal  and  a  brother,  whom  he 
received  into  his  home  most  cordially,  although 
he  was  not  a  comfortable  guest.  He  came  home 
whenever  he  pleased,  which  was  always  long  after 
midnight,  sleeping  until  noon,  and  beyond  it; 
and  inasmuch  as  he  occupied  the  parlor  of  his 
host,  who  believed  in  "  early  to  bed  and  early  to 
rise,"  the  latter  was  not  a  little  incommoded. 

The  poet  Schenshin,  known  by  the  pseudonym 
"Fyett "  and  who  remained  in  unbroken  friend- 
ship with  Tolstoy,  saw  him  here  for  the  first 
time.  Tolstoy  was  still  in  bed  when  he  arrived, 
although  the  morning  was  far  advanced;  and 
when  "Fyett"  expressed  his  surprise,  Turge- 
nieff  said  :  "  He  does  that  all  the  time ;  he  has 
come  back  from  Sebastopol  and  his  battery,  and 
he  is  beside  himself.  Cards,  gypsies,  and  drink- 
ing, the  whole  night,  and  then  he  sleeps  like  a 
corpse  till  afternoon.  At  first  I  tried  to  hold 
him  back,  but  now  I  have  given  it  up." 

Tolstoy's  excessive  nature  could  not  be  held 
in  check;  he  sinned  every  day  like  the  most 
depraved  mujik,  but  repented  as  magnificently 
as  King  David.  All  that  he  had  condemned,  and 

90 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

was  to  condemn  still  more  severely,  he  tasted 
through  and  through,  and  found  pleasure  in  it. 
His  perfectly  open  nature,  which  tempted  him 
to  tell  everybody  just  what  he  thought  and  as 
he  thought  it,  led  him  into  severe  conflicts  with 
his  colleagues,  and  especially  with  Turgenieff, 
who  was  a  perfect  idealist  in  his  early  years 
and  full  of  mannerisms,  which  seemed  to  Tolstoy 
insincerities.  Theirs  were  two  opposite  natures, 
both  of  them  too  strong  and  individualistic  to 
cling  to  each  other.  They  were  constantly  quar- 
reling like  two  spoiled  boys,  agreeing  best 
when  Turgenieff  was  in  Paris,  and  Tolstoy  in 
Moscow  or  Yasnaya  Polyana.  How  trivial  these 
quarrels  were,  their  common  friend  "  Fyett "  re- 
ports after  witnessing  the  following  in  Nekras- 
sofFs  home,  where  both  of  them  were  visitors. 
"  Turgenieff  walked  up  and  down  the  room  with 
gigantic  steps,  piteously  groaning,  holding  his 
throat  with  both  hands,  and  whispering  with  the 
eyes  of  a  dying  gazelle  :  '  I  am  done  for,  I  have 
bronchitis.'  Tolstoy,  like  an  angry  bear,  said 
roughly,  '  Bronchitis  is  a  disease  of  the  imagi- 
nation.' Nekrassoff's  heart  sank  into  his  boots, 
for  he  is  the  editor  of  the  *  Journal,'  of  which 

91 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

these  two  are  the  main  pillars,  and  he  is  eager 
to  avoid  a  rupture ;  he  would  like  to  take  Tur- 
genieff's  part,  but  fears  to  offend  Tolstoy,  who 
is  lying,  angry,  on  the  sofa.  Turgenieff,  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  coat-tails  swing- 
ing, walks  up  and  down  the  three  rooms.  Every- 
body is  excited  and  nobody  knows  what  to  do. 
Expecting  a  catastrophe,  I  step  to  the  sofa  and 
say :  *  My  dearest  Tolstoy,  don't  be  excited.  You 
do  not  know  how  he  values  you  and  how  he 
loves  you.'  *  I  cannot  permit  him,'  replies  Tol- 
stoy, with  expanded  nostrils,  '  to  do  anything  to 
spite  me ;  now  he  walks  purposely  up  and  down 
in  front  of  me,  and  turns  his  democratic  shin- 
bones  hither  and  thither.' " 

Their  whole  early  acquaintance  is  spoiled  by 
such  trivialities,  which  are  unfortunately  con- 
nected with  the  lives  of  great  people,  and  which 
spring  sometimes  from  their  overwrought  nerves, 
but  more  often  from  the  fact  that  many  an 
unripened  genius  thinks  incivility  the  sign  of 
budding  strength  and  greatness.  A  year  after 
this  quarrel,  Turgenieff  writes  Tolstoy  from  Paris, 
"  Our  acquaintance  was  formed  under  wrong  con- 
ditions; when  we  meet  again  it  will  be  easier 

92 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

and  better."  But  afterwards  he  writes:  '''A 
strong  friendship  between  us  is  impossible,  for 
we  are  formed  of  different  clay." 

Tolstoy's  self-appreciation,  heightened  by  the 
self-conscious  atmosphere  which  prevailed  in  his 
literary  circle,  and  by  the  praise  which  was  show- 
ered upon  him,  destroyed  all  his  reserve,  and 
made  him  the  storm-center  of  every  company. 
He  was  used  to  dealing  roughly  and  honestly 
with  himself,  and  he  thought  that  he  could  do 
it  with  others.  At  one  of  these  gatherings  he 
called  out  excitedly,  "  I  cannot  admit  that  your 
words  express  your  convictions.  I  stand  here 
with  my  sword  or  dagger,  and  I  say :  *  So  long 
as  I  live,  nobody  shall  pass  this  threshold ; '  that 
is  conviction,  but  you  try  to  hide  from  one  an- 
other your  real  thoughts,  and  you  call  that  con- 
viction." Turgenieff,  for  whom  this  sally  was 
intended,  cried  out  angrily,  "  Get  out !  your  ban- 
ner does  not  wave  here."  The  trouble  was  that 
most  of  the  men  who  composed  this  circle  were 
dreamers  who  had  ideals,  but  could  not  coin  them 
into  words,  and  much  less  into  deeds,  while  Tol- 
stoy was  as  eager  for  action  then  as  he  was  on 
the  Fourth  Battery  face  to  face  with  the  enemy, 

93 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

He  had  in  him  that  elementary  force  which 
brooks  no  opposition,  which  has  no  sense  of  the 
common  and  the  commonplace,  and  no  use  for 
them ;  which  disregards  all  traditions,  breaks 
abruptly  from  the  past,  and  takes  hold  of  the  pre- 
sent as  if  it  were  the  first  day  of  creation.  Out  of 
such  a  mood  came  his  unfortunate  criticisms  of 
Shakespeare  and  his  admirers,  of  Goethe  and  his 
Faust,  and  of  Herzen  the  Russian  author,  whose 
name  was  then  upon  everybody's  lips.  Among 
men  of  lesser  strength  his  words  carried  convic- 
tion, while  among  his  equals  and  friends  they 
created  discords  and  quarrels,  and  broke  binding 
ties,  consequences  which  he  did  not  care  to  avoid, 
at  the  expense  of  what  he  considered  "  truth."  He 
also  believed  that  one  must  have  a  definite  phi- 
losophy of  life,  and  that  one  must  aim  for  moral 
perfection  in  himself  and  others,  theories  which 
were  not  considered  necessary  by  his  friends, 
among  whom  art  was  a  great  goddess,  and  "art 
for  art's  sake  "  a  formula  not  yet  expressed  but 
felt,  and  one  which  Tolstoy  was  always  ready  to 
combat.  What  contributed  not  a  little  to  his 
irritability  was  that  he  fancied  himself  ill,  for 
consumption  was  in  his  family,  his  best  beloved 

94 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

brother  being  then  in  its  first  stages.  But  more 
perhaps  than  anything  else  his  disquiet  grew 
from  the  fact  that  he  did  not  live  up  to  his 
ideals.  Each  day  with  him  was  a  struggle  for 
moral  perfection,  and  each  day  saw  his  defeat. 
Such  physical,  mental,  and  spiritual  unrest  does 
not  make  a  man  a  good  companion,  although  in 
spite  of  it,  the  artist  continued  to  grow,  and  per- 
haps because  of  it,  his  creative  power  became 
stronger  and  stronger. 

He  wrote  during  this  time  another  frag- 
ment of  the  never-completed  biographical  story, 
"Youth,"  "The  Notebook  of  a  Scorekeeper," 
"The  Two  Hussars,"  " The  Blizzard,"  and  "Al- 
bert." "  The  Notebook  of  a  Scorekeeper  "  is  one  of 
the  keenest  criticisms  which  he^  has  written,  of 
the  life  around  him :  aside  from  its  artistic  merit, 
it  ought  to  be  of  the  greatest  importance  as  a 
tract  against  the  passion  of  gambling.  Just  as 
mercilessly  as  he  had  pictured  war,  with  its  use- 
less and  terrible  sacrifice  of  life,  he  now  de- 
scribes the  struggle  with  that  passion  which  has 
ruined  such  large  fortunes,  so  much  character, 
and  so  many  lives.  Delicately  yet  fearlessly  and 
plainly  he  describes  NechludofFs  first  step  to- 

95 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

ward  moral  ruin ;  and  although  it  all  happened 
in  St.  Petersburg,  we  recognize  in  his  surround- 
ings the  "men  of  the  world"  who  are  every- 
where the  same,  eager  to  lead  others  astray,  and 
doing  it  without  the  slightest  twinge  of  con- 
science. On  the  contrary,  they  are  proud  of  the 
fact  that  they  have  guided  an  innocent  youth  to 
the  path  which  they  call  the  way  of  life,  but 
which  is  the  way  of  death.  "You  may  laugh 
about  it,"  says  Nechludoff  blushingly,  "  Prince,  I 
shall  never  forgive  you  or  myself."  "  Don't  cry," 
says  the  prince  jokingly,  "  we  shall  ride  home." 
"I  don't  want  to  ride  anywhera  Oh !  what  have 
I  done?"  Thus  he  sighed,  yet  did  not  move 
away  from  the  billiard-table.  "He  had  been  as 
innocent  as  a  young  girl."  This  same  circle  which 
had  prided  itself  upon  destroying  his  innocence 
also  enticed  him  to  ruin  his  fortune.  Pitiable  are 
those  steps  downward,  and  we  follow  him  trem- 
blingly. He  has  gambled  away  all  he  had ;  he  is 
possessed  by  the  demon;  he  borrows  money,  the 
money  of  the  poor  scorekeeper;  he  is  wanted 
less  and  less  as  his  fortune  is  reduced,  and  finally 
the  keeper  of  the  house  refuses  openly  to  trust 
him  longer.  Weighed  down  by  the  shame,  struck 

96 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

in  the  vital  part  of  his  sensitive  soul,  he  sends  the 
scorekeeper  out  of  the  room  and  kills  himself. 

That  this  was  written  out  of  Tolstoy^s  own 
experience  we  know,  and  that  he  was  near  com- 
mitting suicide  is  admitted  by  him ;  that  he  was 
chastising  himself  and  trying  to  cure  himself  of 
the  evil  which  possessed  him  are  plainly  seen. 
The  story  is  not  less  tragic  and  awful  than  any 
of  his  war  stories,  and  the  color  is  as  gray  and 
dark  as  that  which  hung  over  Sebastopol.  He 
takes  all  the  romance  out  of  the  social  vices,  just 
as  he  blurred  all  the  bright  colors  in  our  concep- 
tion of  war. 

With  less  artistic  skill  but  not  less  forcibly,  he 
wrote  the  story  of  "  The  Two  Hussars,"  in  which 
he  puts  opposite  each  other  father  and  son ;  one 
of  them  a  man  of  the  old  school,  who  loves  "wine, 
women,  and  song,"  an  unscrupulous  Don  Juan, 
and  his  son,  who  comes  to  the  scene  of  his  father's 
adventures,  with  high  ideals  of  life,  with  an  ab- 
horrence of  war,  and  great  love  for  the  simple 
domestic  life.  These  are  the  two  points  upon 
which  Tolstoy  is  to  enlarge  more  and  more  in 
his  work  and  in  his  life,  and  which  here  serve 
only  as  preliminary  sketches. 

97 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

In  his  simple  but  powerful  story  "  The  Bliz- 
zard," it  is  as  if  an  artist  had  unexpectedly- 
turned  from  the  painting  of  figures  to  that  of 
landscapes,  for  Tolstoy  suddenly  becomes  descrip- 
tive, and  silences  all  his  critics  who  still  claim 
that  he  has  no  feeling  for  nature.  He  tells  of 
his  journey  from  one  post-station  to  another,  on 
a  stormy  winter's  night ;  of  the  increasing  dark- 
ness, the  howling  wind,  the  driving  snow,  the 
long  wandering  through  the  trackless  night,  and 
the  impressions  made  upon  him  by  the  illimit- 
able space.  Clearly,  as  if  painted  upon  canvas 
by  the  best  artist,  the  picture  remains  before 
our  eyes,  and  we  wander  with  him  like  that  lost 
speck  which  he  was,  upon  the  snowy  desert. 
This  feeling  for  nature  is  one  of  Tolstoy's  artis- 
tic qualities  which  he  purposely  suppressed,  and 
only  once  more  does  it  appear  in  all  its  fullness  : 
that  is  in  the  forty-third  chapter  of  "War  and 
Peace,"  which  Turgenieff  called  "  the  finest  de- 
scriptive scene  in  European  literature."  Nearing 
the  form  of  a  novel,  and  yet  with  scarcely  any 
plot,  is  the  next  story,  "Albert,"  which  Tolstoy 
began  at  this  time,  and  finished  during  his  stay 
abroad.    The  hero  of  the  story  is  a  German  mu- 

98 


TOLSTOY  THE   MAN 

sician,  the  one  whom  Tolstoy  dragged  with  him 
to  Yasnaya  Polyana,  and  whom  he  tried  to  save 
for  himself  and  his  art.  To  Tolstoy  he  is  that  not 
very  uncommon  type  of  the  musician,  who  has 
great  talent  but  not  much  character.  In  him  the 
vital  fiber  remained  undeveloped,  and  in  educating 
the  artist,  the  man  was  lost.  Without  and  within 
he  is  neglected,  —  bow-legged,  a  narrow,  bent 
back,  long  disheveled  hair,  his  thin  white  neck 
encircled  by  a  cravat  which  looks  like  a  rope, 
while  from  his  sleeves  the  dirty  shirt  protrudes 
itself.  Delesoff  (Tolstoy)  found  him  in  a  dubious 
locality,  where  he  delighted  the  mixed  company 
by  his  magnificent  playing.  Delesoff  is  attracted 
to  him,  takes  him  home,  and  is  anxious  to  build 
up  in  him  his  destroyed  manhood ;  but  his  benevo- 
lence is  a  torture  to  the  musician,  to  whom  the 
well-ordered  life  and  the  comfort  of  the  home 
seem  a  penalty  rather  than  a  benefaction.  He 
is  detained  by  force  for  three  days,  but  finally 
escapes  his  rescuer,  and  is  found  frozen  to  death 
at  the  entrance  to  the  ball-room.  In  reality, 
the  musician  remained  longer  with  Tolstoy,  and 
helped  to  develop  his  musical  talent,  which  is  not 
inconsiderable.    It  is  in  this  story  that  Tolstoy 

99 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

first  hints  at  his  condemnation  of  art,  which 
often  makes  itself  both  one's  creator  and  de- 
stroyer. 

"  The  Cossacks,"  mentioned  in  a  previous  chap- 
ter, is  one  of  five  stories  written  during  this 
period  by  Tolstoy,  which  increased  his  fame,  and 
caused  the  gentle  and  forgiving  Turgenieff  to 
write  from  Paris:  "When  this  wine  is  clarified 
it  will  be  a  drink  worthy  of  the  gods ; "  and  to 
Tolstoy  he  wrote  at  the  same  time :  "  If  you  do 
not  swerve  from  your  purpose  (and  there  is  no 
reason  that  you  should)  you  will  do  great  things." 
Yet  his  literary  reputation  satisfied  him  as  little 
as  his  military  laurels,  and  his  desire  to  come  in 
touch  with  the  forward  movement  of  the  world 
led  him  in  1857  to  Europe,  and  directly  to  Paris, 
the  Mecca  of  Russian  intelligence. 


ICO 


CHAPTER  VII 

TOLSTOY'S  FIRST  VISIT  ABROAD 

As  far  as  the  Neva  is  from  the  Seine,  so  far  does 
the  spirit  of  the  Slav  seem  from  that  of  the 
Latin.  Heavy,  sedate,  impassive,  he  presents  a 
complete  contrast  to  the  lithe,  passionate,  and 
graceful  Frenchman,  to  whom  nevertheless  he 
feels  himself  drawn,  and  with  whom  he  is  closely 
allied  whether  their  respective  countries  are  at 
peace  or  not.  It  may  be  that  Paris  grew  to  be 
the  Mecca  of  the  Russians  only  in  that  sense  in 
which  it  has  been  that  of  the  whole  intellectual 
and  pleasure-loving  world ;  or  the  Russians  may 
have  been  drawn  there  by  finding  in  it  the  very 
things  which  their  own  nation  and  country 
lacked,  or  what  seems  more  likely  still,  they  were 
attracted  to  each  other  by  a  real  kinship  of 
spirit  which  does  not  appear  to  the  superficial 
observer.  The  Germany  which  lies  between 
these  two  countries,  with  its  deep  intellectual- 
ity, its  love  of  law  and  order,  its  correctness  and 

lOI 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

itsfcnisqneness/riever'had  a  great  attraction  for 
the  Russian,  who  usually  passed  through  it  with- 
out noticing  it,  and  without  knowing  or  caring 
to  know  it.  Tolstoy  also  passed  through  it  quickly, 
and  yet  his  sharp,  discerning  eyes  noticed,  as  soon 
as  he  crossed  the  Russian  border,  that  he  was  in 
a  country  full  of  "  courage  and  vigor ; "  that  each 
patch  of  soil  showed  cultivation,  and  that  it 
was  a  land  worth  knowing  better.  He  promised 
himself  a  prolonged  visit  on  his  return  trip,  and 
hurried  on  to  Paris,  where  he  arrived  early  in 
February,  1857. 

In  Tolstoy's  notebook  nothing  is  found  which 
shows  what  effect  Paris  had  upon  him,  and  he 
seldom  speaks  of  his  experiences  abroad,  nor 
is  the  influence  visible  in  any  of  his  works.  He 
saw  in  Paris  the  same  human  beings  whom  he 
had  seen  in  St.  Petersburg,  with  the  same  sor- 
rows and  cares,  the  same  passions  and  desires  ; 
and  although  he  found  more  culture,  he  did  not 
find  more  virtue.  If  the  architecture  of  its 
churches  and  palaces  was  different,  and  customs 
and  habits  unlike  those  at  home,  love  and  hate, 
happiness  and  misery,  were  the  same.  Above 
all,  he  found  that  the  spirit  which  permeated 

102 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

French  society  was  identical  with  that  in  Russia, 
having  the  same  faults  and  the  same  virtues. 
The  happy-go-lucky,  easy-going,  pleasure-loving 
crowd  which  surged  up  and  down  the  Nevsky 
Prospect,  he  saw  also  on  the  Parisian  boulevards. 
In  Paris,  to  be  sure,  the  crowd  flaunted  its  luxu- 
ries more  gracefully,  and  it  drank  absinthe  in- 
stead of  vodka ;  but  it  came  on  the  scene  at  just 
about  the  same  hour,  and  turned  night  into  day  in 
just  about  the  same  way.  It  was  the  same  chess- 
board, only  on  one  side  there  were  more  pawns 
and  on  the  other  side  more  kings,  while  on  both 
sides  the  game  of  life  was  played  carelessly ;  but 
when  one  lost  it  said  "  nytshevo,"  and  the  other 
perhaps  sought  the  quickest  way  to  the  morgue. 
Tolstoy  was  not  caught  in  the  Parisian  whirl,  and, 
if  he  indulged  in  any  of  its  pleasures,  he  did  not 
grow  so  dizzy  that  he  could  not  still  see  the  only 
thing  to  him  worth  seeing,  —  the  individual 
human  being.  He  attended  the  lectures  in  the 
Sorbonne,  rode  in  an  omnibus  up  and  down  the 
boulevards,  walked  through  the  narrow  streets 
where  the  toilers  lived,  went  to  the  prisons,  and 
attended  the  execution  of  a  criminal.  This  single 
death  made  more  impression  upon  him  than  the 

103 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

life  of  the  gay  crowd  upon  the  streets,  and  his 
whole  nature  revolted  against  so  cruel  and  inex- 
cusable an  act.  He  still  hears  how  the  head  rolled 
into  the  wooden  casket,  and  how  the  headless 
body  followed  it ;  still  sees  the  flowing  blood,  the 
inquisitive  throng,  and  all  the  gruesome  sur- 
roundings of  this  scene,  which  made  him  rebel 
against  a  civilization  which  not  only  allowed  but 
took  satisfaction  in  it. 

In  Paris  he  again  met  Turgenieff  (who  had 
grown  fond  of  France  and  could  scarcely  exist 
in  his  own  country),  Nekrassoff,  who  was  also 
visiting  there,  and  many  other  lesser  lights  who 
had  come  for  inspiration.  They  found  Tolstoy 
a  better  companion  than  he  had  been  in  St.  Pe- 
tersburg, which  was  probably  due  to  the  fact  that 
he  was  living  a  more  regular  life,  and  that  he 
indulged  in  no  excesses ;  consequently  his  nerves 
were  steadier,  and  he  talked  less  and  worked 
more.  During  his  stay  in  Paris  he  lived  in  one 
of  those  international  pensions  in  which  it 
abounds,  and  of  which  he  says :  "  There  were 
twenty  of  us  of  different  nationalities,  callings, 
and  characteristics ;  but  under  the  influence  of 
French  sociability  we  gathered  around  the  table 

104 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

as  if  we  were  a  pleasure  party.  From  one  end 
to  the  other  the  jests  and  jokes  were  passed, 
often  in  mutilated  languages.  Everybody  talked, 
without  a  care  as  to  how  his  words  would  be 
received  :  we  had  our  philosopher,  our  fighting 
rooster,  our  poet,  our  fool,  and  they  belonged  to 
all  of  us.  After  the  meal  we  pushed  the  table 
aside  and  danced  on  the  dusty  carpet,  in  time  and 
tune  or  out  of  them,  until  late  in  the  evening. 
Perhaps  we  flirted  a  little  bit:  we  were  not 
always  very  sensible  or  reverent  people,  never- 
theless we  were  human  beings.  There  were  the 
Spanish  countess  with  her  romantic  adventures, 
the  American  doctor  who  had  access  to  the  Tui- 
leries,  the  young  tragedian  with  his  long  hair, 
the  pianist  who  herself  said  that  she  had  com- 
posed the  finest  polka  in  the  world,  and  the  un- 
fortunate, beautiful  widow  with  her  three  rings 
on  each  finger.  We  associated  one  with  the  other 
in  a  somewhat  superficial  but  altogether  delight- 
ful fashion,  and  took  away  with  us  passing  or 
deeper  memories  of  one  another." 

In  April  and  May  of  the  same  year,  Tolstoy 
was  in  Italy ;  but,  strange  to  say,  he  seemed  to  be 
unimpressed  by  it.    The  ecstasies  with  which 

IDS 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

every  one  speaks  of  its  blue  skies  and  match- 
less seas  found  in  him  no  echo ;  and  he  passed 
through  the  Eternal  City,  through  Florence  and 
Venice,  as  if  he  had  been  both  deaf  and  blind. 
Only  in  conversation  with  friends  who  have  trav- 
eled does  he  here  and  there  drop  a  few  words ; 
but  they  add  nothing  to  our  knowledge  of  his 
impressions,  for  they  are  often  only  trivial  anec- 
dotes and  nothing  more.  In  reality,  he  walked 
through  Italy  like  an  iconoclastic  Puritan ;  so  full 
of  thoughts  of  man's  sins  and  man's  sufferings 
that  hardly  a  ray  of  its  matchless  beauty  pene- 
trated those  sharp,  half -closed  eyes,  shaded  by  a 
knitted  brow.  In  Italy  too  many  beggars  hung 
at  his  heels  for  him  to  take  any  pleasure  in  vis- 
iting palaces ;  he  saw  too  much  ignorance  and 
superstition  to  believe  in  the  elevating  influences 
of  that  art  by  which  its  museums  and  galleries 
were  crowded ;  and,  above  all,  Italy  spoke  only  of 
the  past,  and  in  that  Tolstoy  had  little  interest. 
He  was  never  a  hero-worshiper,  did  not  care  for 
tombs  or  monuments,  and  his  guides  found  him 
a  skeptical,  an  irreverent,  and  unwilling  victim. 
Although  he  had  not  then  formulated  a  theory 
of  art,  he  had  given  the  subject  much  thought ; 

io6 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

and  the  classic  nudeness  was  to  him  not  the  less 
nude  simply  because  it  was  classic.  And  just  be- 
cause he  had  a  strong  and  sensuous  nature  he 
felt  keenly  its  influence  and  often  knew  himself 
too  debased  to  express  himself  exaltedly. 

In  Switzerland,  where  nature  was  not  spoiled 
by  the  artifices  of  men,  his  artistic  soul  was 
touched  ;  and  he  quivers  from  emotion  at  the 
sight  of  it.  He  writes  in  his  "Luzerne'* :  "As  I 
went  up  to  my  room  and  opened  my  window 
toward  the  lake,  I  was  literally  dazed  and  over- 
whelmed in  the  first  moments  by  the  beauty  of 
the  water,  the  mountains,  and  the  sky.  I  felt 
an  unrest,  a  desire  in  some  way  to  give  expres- 
sion to  the  overflowing  emotions  which  were 
suddenly  filling  my  soul.  .  .  .  But  neither  on 
the  lake,  on  the  mountains,  nor  in  the  sky  was 
there  one  straight  line  visible,  or  one  definite 
color,  or  yet  one  quiet  point ;  everywhere  there 
were  motion,  irregularity,  arbitrariness,  endless 
variety  of  light  and  shade,  but  also  in  every- 
thing the  quiet,  the  softness,  the  harmony,  the 
necessity  of  the  beautiful.''  At  the  sight  of  what 
man  had  done,  he  felt  here  just  what  Ruskin 
felt ;  nor  does  he  condemn  less  severely  and  sarcas- 

107 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

tically.  "And  here,  in  the  midst  of  this  indefi- 
nite, confused,  and  wild  beauty,  there  stared  at 
me  from  under  my  windows,  stupid  and  foolish, 
the  white  line  of  the  boulevard,  the  linden-trees 
with  their  supports,  the  green  benches,  poor 
miserable  works  of  human  hands,  which  did  not 
disappear  in  the  surrounding  loveliness,  like  the 
distant  villas  and  ruins,  but  which  coarsely  op- 
posed it." 

He  was  able,  however,  to  find  a  spot  where  he 
did  not  see  the  straight  English  tourist  among 
the  straight  linden-trees,  on  that  horribly  straight 
boulevard,  and  where  he  indulged  "  in  that  in- 
complete but  therefore  sweeter  pleasure  which 
one  feels  when  one  beholds  the  beauty  of  nature 
all  alone."  He  does  not  revel  very  long  in  this 
solitary  ecstasy,  for  he  comes  in  touch  with  a 
poor  dwarfed  musician  who  plays  on  his  guitar 
and  sings  the  songs  of  the  mountains,  before  a 
hundred  admiring  guests  of  the  hotel,  and  after- 
wards is  sent  away  without  the  smallest  reward 
for  his  work.  Tolstoy  pityingly  follows  the 
man,  talks  to  him,  and  returns  with  him  to  the 
elegant  hotel  in  which  he  played.  He  takes  him 
to  the  dining-salon,  and  is  refused  admittance 

io8 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

because  of  his  companion;  but  in  spite  of  opposi- 
tion he  enters  with  him,  and  a  well-fed,  well- 
dressed  Englishman  immediately  leaves  his  table 
and  complains  because  of  the  intrusion. 

This  simple  incident  left  a  powerful  impression 
on  Tolstoy  and  furnishes  the  text  for  his  first 
attack  upon  society,  "  Luzerne."  It  is  severe  and 
sarcastic,  yet  so  artistically  done  and  so  deeply 
felt  that  it  escapes  classification  among  his  socio- 
logical tracts.  "That  is  the  strange  fate  of 
poetry,"  he  says,  walking  restlessly  under  those 
straight  linden-trees ;  "  everybody  loves  it  and 
desires  it,  but  nobody  acknowledges  its  power. 
Ask  all  the  guests  of  the  '  Schweitzerhof '  what 
is  the  highest  gift  of  Earth,  and  all,  or  ninety- 
nine  out  of  one  hundred,  will  answer  :  *  The  best 
gift  of  Earth  is  money.'  And  yet  they  have  all 
left  their  comfortable  homes  in  the  far  comers 
of  the  world,  f  or  .  .  .  the  poetry  which  they  find 
in  these  mountains ;  that  same  poetry  of  which 
they  talk  sarcastically  and  which  they  admit  is 
good  for  children  and  young  girls."  He  can- 
not cut  himself  loose  from  the  thought  that  no 
man  gave  anything  to  the  musician,  to  whom 
they  all  listened,  and  in  whose  music  they  found 

109 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

pleasure.  Emphatically  and  angrily  he  writes : 
"  On  the  seventh  of  July,  1857,  in  Luzerne,  at 
the  hotel  Schweitzerhof,  in  which  the  richest 
tourists  live,  a  poor  wandering  musician  played 
on  his  guitar  and  sang  for  half  an  hour.  About 
a  hundred  people  listened  to  him ;  but  although 
the  singer  asked  them  three  times  for  a  gift, 
not  one  of  them  gave  him  the  smallest  sum, 
and  most  of  them  laughed  at  him." 

To  Tolstoy  this  is  important  enough  to  be 
written  by  the  chronicler  with  a  fiery  pen  on  the 
page  of  history ;  it  is  more  important  and  of 
deeper  significance  than  the  things  we  read  of  in 
our  newspapers  and  histories. 

"That  the  English  have  killed  thousands  of 
Chinese  because  they  do  not  buy  for  cash,  that 
the  French  have  again  killed  a  thousand  natives 
in  Africa  simply  because  the  grain  grows  abun- 
dantly and  because  an  uninterrupted  war  is 
good  for  the  development  of  the  army,  that  the 
Turkish  consul  in  Naples  must  not  be  a  Jew, 
that  the  Emperor  Napoleon  is  taking  a  walk  in 
Plombieres  and  has  assured  his  people  in  black 
and  white  that  he  ascends  the  throne  only  to 
please  them,  —  all  these  things  are  empty  words 

no 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

which  express  well-known  facts  or  which  are 
only  meant  to  hide  their  real  meaning :  —  but 
that  which  happened  in  Luzerne  on  the  seventh 
of  July,  seems  to  me  entirely  new  and  remark- 
able, and  has  no  bearing  upon  what  we  call  the 
bad  traits  of  human  nature;  it  is  a  definite 
phase  of  our  social  development.  That  is  a  fact, 
not  for  the  history  of  human  actions,  but  for 
the  history  of  progress  and  civilization." 

His  righteous  indignation  at  a  wrong  against 
one  human  being  seems  almost  ridiculous  ;  but  it 
has  always  been  and  has  remained  his  habit  to  see 
in  the  one  wronged  man  the  wronged  human 
race ;  and  no  less  clearly  to  see  in  the  attitude  of 
the  mass  the  one  dominating  thought,  the  whole 
attitude,  of  modern  civilization.  And  as  there  in 
Luzerne  gathered  its  best  results,  the  incident 
of  the  musician  proved  to  him  that  culture  has 
destroyed  in  man  his  simple,  natural,  and  original 
feeling  toward  others.  He  reasoned  that  in  no 
village  in  Russia  would  this  have  been  possible. 
The  mujik  is  uneducated,  but  he  knows  that  he 
is  in  some  way  responsible  for  his  brother; 
he  is  coarse  in  conversation,  but  he  has  that  fine 
feeling  for  others  which  expresses  itself  in  his 

III 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

conduct  toward  all  the  unfortunate.  He  is  some- 
times brutal,  but  never  so  brutal  that  he  would 
turn  away  a  man  who  had  given  him  pleasure 
without  recompensing  him  for  it. 

Here  among  cultured  people  Tolstoy  does  not 
find  any  of  these  qualities;  consequently  he 
thinks  that  civilization  has  destroyed  them  and 
that  it  is  in  some  way  to  blame.  Less  pedantic  and 
arbitrary  than  his  accusation  and  reasoning  is 
his  solution  of  all  the  problems  :  — 

"  One,  only  one  infallible  guide  have  we  :  that 
Spirit  which  embraces  us  all,  which  permeates 
each  individual,  and  which  has  put  into  all  of 
us  the  desire  to  seek  the  good ;  the  same  Spirit 
which  works  in  the  tree  that  it  may  grow  to- 
ward the  sun,  which  operates  in  the  flower  that 
it  may  scatter  seed  in  the  autumn,  and  which 
dwells  in  us  unconsciously  that  we  may  be 
drawn  toward  one  another."  Yet  this  some- 
what indefinite  solution  was  not  altogether 
satisfactory ;  he  felt  that  it  was  "vague  phrase," 
and  it  left  him  just  as  undecided  as  before.  He 
was  simply  drifting  with  the  current,  "like  a 
man  sitting  in  a  boat  driven  by  the  wind  and 
waves,  who  might  be  asked :  '  Where  are  you 

112 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

going  ? '  and  who  could  not  answer :  *  I  am  going 
there  or  there/  " 

Neither  his  European  visit  nor  his  touch  with 
European  scholars  brought  rest  to  his  ever-ques- 
tioning soul;  and  although  he  was  to  come  to 
them  again  and  again,  and  was  to  "  ask  and  seek 
and  knock"  at  strange  doors,  he  already  felt 
that  the  answer  was  not  written  in  any  philoso- 
phy ;  but  that  it  has  been  worked  out  in  "  The 
One  Life,"  after  which  he,  and  every  individual, 
with  much  sacrifice  and  labor,  must  pattern. 


"3 


CHAPTER  VIII 

TOLSTOY'S  SECOND  AND  THIRD  JOURNEYS  ABROAD 

During  the  winter  of  1857  Tolstoy  was  again 
in  Moscow,  and  in  spite  of  his  repeated  "  preach- 
ments "  against  civilization  he  indulged  himself 
in  those  aspects  of  it  which  are  simply  refined 
barbarities,  and  of  which  each  generation  inher- 
its its  full  measure.  Of  those  phases  of  modern 
progress  Russia  had  its  share  even  before  it 
was  civilized ;  and  the  man  who  said,  "  Let  us  eat 
and  drink  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  we  die," 
now  has  numerous  descendants  in  its  villages 
and  cities.  Temptation  has  here  a  peculiar 
quality ;  for  the  busiest  brain  soon  succumbs  to 
the  prevailing  spirit  of  idleness,  while  the  most 
virtuous  man  has  at  least  his  recurring  tempta- 
tions ;  and  Tolstoy  became  a  genuine  Muscovitic 
aristocrat  before  he  was  aware  of  it.  He  sinned 
under  protest,  to  be  sure;  but  that  did  not 
make  the  champagne  less  intoxicating,  the  cards 
less  dangerous  to  his  fortune,  or  the  black-eyed 

114 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

gypsy  maidens  less  ruinous  to  his  morals.  This 
life  put  him  simply  on  a  level  with  other  young 
men  of  his  time  and  station ;  for  at  this  stage  of 
his  development  he  had  only  the  inclination  but 
not  the  courage  to  be  odd. 

These  rough  pleasures,  this  sowing  of  his 
"  wild  oats,"  did  not  close  a  single  door  against 
him,  and  caused  less  comment  than  if  he  had 
abstained  from  them.  Nor  did  he  cease  taking 
full  delight  in  higher  pleasures ;  for  he  was  a 
constant  guest  in  the  home  of  his  friend  "Fyett," 
where  an  artistic  and  musical  housewife  gath- 
ered around  her  the  intelligence  of  Moscow,  and 
where  many  a  new  symphony  and  many  a  new 
song  had  their  first  interpretation,  which  caused 
endless  debate.  Tolstoy  not  only  listened  intelli- 
gently to  music,  but  was  a  fine  performer,  being 
especially  sought  after  to  play  accompaniments ; 
for  he  was  a  master  in  that  difficult  and  thank- 
less art.  Sometimes  he  skipped  these  musical 
"  jours  "  ;  particularly  when  he  knew  that  some 
tedious  guests  were  to  be  present,  or  when  he 
suspected  his  friend  "Fyett"  of  intending  to 
practice  on  the  company  his  poems  or  transla- 
tions of  Shakespeare. 

115 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

At  this  time  Tolstoy  had,  in  common  with  all 
the  idle  and  noble  youth  of  his  acquaintance,  a 
hobby  imported  from  the  West ;  and  that  was 
gymnastics.  The  inactive  young  men  of  Moscow, 
who  found  no  greater  pleasure  than  to  be  whirled 
along,  sitting  behind  fast  horses,  had  suddenly 
become  active,  and  a  large  club-house  was  opened 
in  which  they  practiced  their  new  accomplish- 
ment. Tolstoy  entered  into  this  latest  fashion 
with  all  the  ardor  of  his  strong  physical  nature, 
and  every  day  at  noon  could  be  found  here 
"  dressed  in  pink  tights,  hanging  by  his  toes  on 
the  trapeze,  his  bushy  hair  over  his  face."  When 
he  had  exhausted  himself  here,  he  walked  up 
and  down  the  Tverskaya,  the  loafing-place  of 
Moscow's  gilded  youth :  he  was  always  dressed 
in  the  height  of  fashion,  his  hat  tilted,  and  a 
cane  twirling  between  his  fingers,  —  the  very 
picture  of  a  dandy. 

Suddenly  he  disappeared  from  Moscow,  and  as 
suddenly  appeared  in  Paris,  from  where  he  went 
to  Dijon  and  again  began  to  gather  his  scattered 
strength  to  write  his  sketch,  "Albert,"  the  story 
of  the  unfortunate  musician,  to  which  reference 
has  already  been  made. 

ii6 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

By  Christmas  he  is  again  in  Yasnaya  Polyana, 
and  ends  a  rather  idle  and  unprofitable  year, 
only  to  begin  another  one  in  the  same  way  in 
the  same  place.  In  the  winter  he  hunted,  and 
came  near  losing  his  life  at  a  bear-chase  to  which 
a  friend  had  invited  him  and  "  Fyett,"  who  re- 
lates the  incident  graphically :  "  Tolstoy  stood 
nearly  up  to  his  waist  in  the  snow,  when  a  pow- 
erful bear  appeared  and  went  straight  at  him  in 
a  decidedly  unneighborly  fashion.  Tolstoy  aimed 
and  fired,  but  failed ;  and  in  the  smoke  he  saw 
the  towering  body  of  the  animal  ready  to  throw 
itself  upon  him.  He  shot  again ;  this  time  the 
bullet  entered  the  animaPs  mouth,  but  was  de- 
flected by  the  teeth.  Tolstoy  did  not  have  time 
to  grasp  another  gun,  nor  could  he  jump  out  of 
the  way ;  he  felt  a  sudden  stroke  and  fell  back- 
ward on  the  snow ;  but  the  beards  aim  was  as  bad 
as  his  own.  It  sprang  too  far,  and  as  it  re- 
turned, ready  to  devour  the  frightened  hunter, 
he  had  presence  of  mind  enough  to  push  his 
big  fur  cap  into  its  jaws  and  for  the  moment 
avert  a  renewed  attack,  until  one  of  the  forest- 
ers could  come  to  his  aid  and  drive  away  the 
monster."  Tolstoy  was  found  to  be  badly  bitten 

117 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

and  bleeding ;  but  the  first  thing  he  said  was, 
"  What  will  Fyett  think  about  it  ?  " 

During  that  year  he  lived  in  close  intimacy 
with  this  poet,  whom  he  called  his  **  little  dar- 
ling," and  whom  he  loved  for  his  gifts  as  a  poet 
and  as  a  man.  This  was  the  year  in  which  Tol- 
stoy began  to  be  so  remarkably  interested  in 
farm  labor ;  and  his  brother  describes  how  he  saw 
him  walking  behind  the  plow  just  like  a  pea- 
sant. Tolstoy  himself  narrates  their  conversation 
about  it,  in  "Anna  Karenina,"  where  a  great 
deal  of  his  inner  and  outer  life  is  portrayed. 
With  marvelous  energy  he  gives  himself  to  the 
tilling  of  the  soil,  yet  reserves  enough  leisure 
to  enjoy  all  the  beauties  of  the  changing  sea- 
sons ;  drinking  them  all  in,  in  strong  draughts. 
"  What  a  marvelous  day  it  has  been,"  he  writes 
of  the  Pentecostal  holyday;  "what  a  beautiful 
church  service ;  the  fading  blossoms  of  the  red- 
bud,  the  gray  hair  of  the  peasants,  their  bright 
red  coats,  and  the  glowing,  burning  sun ! "  He 
testifies  to  his  close  touch  with  nature  dur- 
ing this  period,  by  writing  the  last  part  of  "The 
Three  Deaths,"  in  which  he  graphically  describes 
the  death  of  the  tree.   He  did  not  neglect  his 

ii8 


^ 


4 


COUNTESS  TOLSTOY 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

gymnastic  exercises,  but  practiced  faithfully,  to 
the  great  amusement  of  the  peasants  and  the 
chagrin  of  his  brother  Nicolai,  who  writes: 
"Lyoftschik  (a  pet  name)  wants  to  do  every- 
thing, and  everything  at  once,  and  he  does 
not  want  to  give  up  his  gymnastics.  Near 
the  window  of  his  workroom  is  the  apparatus. 
Of  course  he  does  as  he  pleases,  and  does  n't 
care  what  others  say  about  it ;  but  the  village 
elder  finds  it  rather  queer,  and  says  :  *  I  come  to 
the  master  for  orders,  but  he  is  dressed  in  a  red 
jacket,  and,  with  one  knee  over  a  pole  and  his 
head  downward,  is  swinging  himself.  His  hair 
hangs  down  and  waves  in  all  directions,  the 
blood  has  rushed  to  his  face,  and  one  does  not 
know  whether  just  to  gaze  at  him  or  to  ask  for 
one's  orders.' " 

The  year  1859  was  spent  in  Moscow,  with 
long  intervals  at  Yasnaya  Polyana,  and  one  or 
two  visits  to  St.  Petersburg.  During  this  year 
Tolstoy  wrote  his  story,  "Family  Happiness," 
and  finished  that  remarkable  sketch  already  re- 
ferred to,  "Three  Deaths."  The  story,  "Family 
Happiness,"  is  charming;  an  adjective  which 
does  not  fit  many  of  his  best  and  strongest 

119 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

works^  A  seventeen-year-old  girl,  Mascha,  an  or- 
phan, lives  alone  with  her  governess  and  younger 
sister  on  their  estate,  and  falls  in  love  with  the 
first  man  who  comes  into  her  awakened  woman's 
soul ;  that  man  being  Sergei  Michaelovitsch,  her 
neighbor  and  guardian.  The  affection  which 
springs  in  the  heart  of  each  is  ardent  and  sweet, 
and  its  awakening  is  pictured  with  the  touch  of 
a  man  who  has  the  highest  conception  of  human 
love.  Sergei  is  nineteen  years  older  than  Mascha, 
and  is  much  in  doubt  whether  he  ought  to  link 
the  life  of  so  young  a  girl  to  his ;  but  love,  which 
is  stronger  than  doubt,  conquers,  and  they  marry 
and  live  happily  at  his  country  place. 

The  happiness  which  Tolstoy  here  pictures  is 
the  longing  of  his  own  love-hungry  heart.  "A 
quiet  if  lonely  life,  far  away  from  the  city  yet 
near  enough  to  men,  with  the  possibility  of 
being  of  service  to  such  as  are  unused  to  kind- 
ness, and  whom  it  is  easy  to  befriend ;  to  do  the 
kind  of  work  which  one  believes  to  be  useful. 
Then  recreation,  nature,  books,  music,  love  for 
a  congenial  soul;  that  is  my  happiness,  and  I 
cannot  imagine  anything  higher  or  better."  Yet 
the  happiness  of  which  the  hero  of  the  story 

I20    - 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

dreams  is  not  the  happiness  for  which  his  wife 
longs ;  she  grows  restless  and  sighs  for  the  life 
of  the  city.  They  move  to  the  capital,  she  is 
caught  in  the  whirl  of  its  pleasures,  and  does 
not  wish  to  return  to  the  country  with  her  hus- 
band ;  so,  in  spite  of  their  two  children,  a  break 
occurs,  and  he  goes  home  alone.  She  does  not 
realize  her  position  or  how  others  may  regard  it, 
until  an  Italian  count  tries  to  make  love  to  her. 
Then  she  returns  to  her  husband ;  but  the  happi- 
ness which  they  now  find  lacks  the  lire  and  the 
romance  of  the  love  which  was  lost,  although  it 
grows  strong  and  pure  in  their  common  devo- 
tion to  their  children. 

This  story  is  important  because  the  author  is 
trying  to  formulate  a  theory  of  marriage,  and 
a  happiness  in  married  life  which  is  not  based 
upon  the  carnal  or  what  men  call  the  romantic, 
but  upon  something  purer,  deeper,  and  better. 
As  if  to  foreshadow  his  own  coming  experience, 
he  wrote  the  story,  "Three  Deaths."  The  un- 
willing and  harrowing  death  of  the  rich  woman 
who  clings  to  every  fiber  of  life  until  the  last 
moment,  is  contrasted  with  the  death  of  the  old, 
worn-out  peasant,  whose  life  indeed  was  "  labor 

121 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

and  sorrow,"  but  who  glides  quietly  into  the 
unknown,  without  fear.  Crude,  rough,  and  rude 
are  his  surroundings,  yet  no  lying  phrase  reaches 
his  ears,  which  are  soon  to  be  closed  to  all  hu- 
man sound.  He  gives  his  boots,  his  only  trea- 
sure, to  the  boy  who  watches  by  him,  and  asks 
in  return  some  memorial  upon  his  grave, — a 
stone  or  a  wooden  cross.  He  dies  almost  as 
quietly  as  the  tree  which  is  cut  down  by  the  boy, 
and  out  of  which  he  will  make  the  cross  for  the 
peasant's  grave. 

These  two  stories  dealt  with  problems  which 
had  not  yet  come  into  Tolstoy's  life  for  solution, 
but  which  were  coming  nearer  to  him  every  mo- 
ment. His  favorite  brother,  Nikolai,  was  showing 
strong  symptoms  of  consumption ;  so  it  was  de- 
cided to  send  him  abroad,  his  brother  Sergei 
and  his  sister  Maria  accompanying  him.  Soden, 
in  Germany,  was  chosen  by  the  physicians  as 
the  proper  place  in  which  to  effect  a  cure,  and 
inasmuch  as  Turgenieff  was  also  there,  the  deci- 
sion was  quickly  made  and  carried  out.  Turgenieff 
was  exceedingly  fond  of  Nikolai,  whom  he  called 
"  The  Old  Sage,"  and  of  whom  he  said  after  his 
death, "  he  was  a  splendid  man  ;  smart,  humble, 

122 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

and  kindly  affectionate."  After  his  brother's  de- 
parture Tolstoy  felt  very  much  depressed.  The 
business  of  carrying  on  his  estate  grew  burden- 
some, anxiety  for  his  brother,  from  whom  he  had 
not  heard  since  his  arrival  abroad,  oppressed  him ; 
so,  to  relieve  himself  and  be  near  his  brother  and 
of  service  to  his  sister,  he  decided  to  go  to  them, 
and  wrote  to  his  friend  "Fyett "  to  that  effect. 

His  journey  this  time  was  by  way  of  St.  Pe- 
tersburg and  the  sea.  He  reached  Stettin  on 
the  fifth  of  July,  leaving  immediately  for  Berlin, 
where  he  arrived  with  a  torturing  toothache 
which  spoiled  for  him  the  first  few  days  of  his 
stay  there.  Germany  could  not  fail  to  be  inter- 
esting to  Tolstoy ;  for  it  was  not  only  the  land  of 
the  modem  philosopher  but  also  the  country  in 
which  the  social  question  was  taken  from  the 
revolutionary  arena  into  the  peaceful  school- 
room to  find  itself  interpreted  in  law  and  life. 
Berlin  was  beginning  to  be  the  great  intellectual 
and  political  center,  and  already  had  in  it  those 
elements  which  have  since  made  it  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  and  best  governed  cities  in  Eu- 
rope. While  Tolstoy  felt  everywhere  the  severity 
of  law,  he  also  felt  the  strong  undercurrent  of 

123 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

love  which  was  then  drawing  men  together  and 
creating  that  class  consciousness  which  made  of 
the  laborer's  cap  a  crown,  and  of  Social  Demo- 
cracy a  religion. 

He  heard  a  number  of  popular  lectures  upon 
sociological  subjects,  attended  sessions  of  the 
Worker's  Union,  and  listened  to  a  few  lectures  at 
the  university  which  revealed  to  him  the  quality 
of  the  German  pedagogic  pabulum.  What  inter- 
ested him  most  was  the  pubHc-school  system; 
and  he  went  purposely  to  Leipsic  to  have  a 
glimpse  of  its  schools,  which  were  considered  the 
best  in  the  country. 

From  Berlin  he  went  to  Dresden,  where  he 
visited  Berthold  Auerbach,  whose  stories  he  had 
read,  and  to  whom  he  felt  himself  greatly  drawn. 
Auerbach  was  as  much  the  revealer  of  the  Ger- 
man peasant  as  Tolstoy  was  of  the  Russian,  al- 
though they  stood  in  different  relation  to  their 
subjects.  Auerbach  contrasted  the  straightfor- 
wardness and  honesty  of  village  life  with  the 
corruptness  and  complexity  of  the  life  of  the 
city,  and  tried  to  liberate  the  peasant  from  the 
slavery  of  the  new  civilization  which  was  being 
pressed  upon  him,  much  against  his  will.  The 

124 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

simplicity  of  Auerbach's  narrative,  the  educa- 
tional quality  by  which  his  work  is  permeated, 
the  purity  and  nobility  of  his  life,  attracted  Tol- 
stoy, and  the  few  days  that  they  spent  together 
in  Dresden  were  memorable  to  both  of  them. 

Tolstoy  next  went  to  Kissingen,  where  he  took 
treatment  as  a  preventive  of  consumption  which 
he  thought  he  had  inherited,  and  which  he  be- 
lieved was  manifesting  itself.  In  Kissingen  he 
met  Julius  Froebel,  a  nephew  of  the  founder  of 
the  Kindergarten  system,  and  himself  deeply  in- 
terested, not  only  in  pedagogic  matters,  but  in 
anything  which  concerned  the  social  well-being 
of  the  masses.  Froebel  relates  that  Tolstoy  gave 
expression  to  queer  notions,  among  which  was 
the  thought  that  Russia  would  some  day  surpass 
Germany  in  educational  matters ;  "  for  the  Rus- 
sians," he  said,  "  were  yet  an  unspoiled  people, 
while  the  Germans  were  like  a  child  which  for 
years  had  been  receiving  a  wrong  education." 
He  communicated  to  Froebel  his  ideas  of  a  new 
educational  system,  and  the  plans  of  a  school, 
the  beginning  of  which  had  already  reached  the 
experimental  stage.  The  people  were  to  him 
mystical  beings,  into  whose  depths  no  one  had  yet 

125 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

penetrated,  and  out  of  whom  great  and  remark- 
able things  were  to  come.  He  spoke  sympathet- 
ically of  communism;  and  in  the  labor  trusts, 
which  had  their  forerunners  in  Russian  life,  and 
are  called  "  artels,"  he  saw  outlines  of  the  future 
social  world. 

Disquieting  news  of  his  brothel's  condition 
came  to  him,  and  he  went  to  Soden  on  the  twen- 
tieth of  August ;  arriving  there,  he  found  Niko- 
lai so  ill  that  his  recovery  was  not  expected. 
Tolstoy  went  with  him  to  the  south  of  France, 
where  he  died  in  his  arms  on  the  twentieth  of 
September.  Tolstoy's  letter  to  his  friend  "  Fyett " 
is  written  on  the  seventeenth  of  October,  and  is 
full  of  despair,  evidently  having  been  written 
under  the  influence  of  Schopenhauer,  whom  he 
was  beginning  to  read  and  appreciate.  He 
writes :  "  He  literally  died  in  my  arms.  Nothing 
in  my  life  has  made  such  an  impression  on  me. 
He  was  right  when  he  said,  *  Nothing  is  worse 
than  death ; '  and  when  one  remembers  that  it  is 
the  end  of  everything,  then  there  is  also  nothing 
worse  than  life.  Why  should  one  work  and  worry 
when  of  that  which  was  Nikolai  Tolstoy  nothing 
remains  ?  He  did  not  say  that  he  felt  the  coming 

126 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

of  death,  but  I  know  that  he  was  listening  for  its 
approaching  steps  and  knew  positively  what  was 
before  him.  A  few  minutes  before  he  died  he 
dozed  ;  suddenly  he  awoke  with  a  start,  and  said, 
'What  was  that?'  He  was  beginning  to  feel 
his  absorption  into  nothing ;  and  if  he  found  no- 
thing on  which  to  take  hold,^  what  shall  I  find  ? 
Much  less  than  he ;  and  assuredly  I  shall  struggle 
with  death  as  he  has  struggled.  To  the  last  minute 
he  held  on  to  life,  did  everything  himself,  tried 
to  work,  asked  me  about  my  plans,  and  gave  me 
his  advice.  But  I  believe  that  he  did  all  these 
things,  not  from  a  really  natural  impulse,  but 
because  of  his  principle.  One  thing  remained 
with  him  to  the  end,  —  nature.  The  evening 
before  he  died  he  went  into  his  room  and  sank 
exhausted  upon  his  bed  by  the  open  window.  I 
came  to  him,  and  he  said  to  me,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes,  *What  a  happy  hour  I  have  had.'  .  .  . 
*  Dust  thou  art,  and  to  dust  thou  shalt  return.' 
But  one  thing  is  left :  the  vague  hope  that  in 
nature,  of  which  we  are  a  part  on  earth,  some- 
thing remains,  and  something  will  be  found. 
All  who  saw  Nikolai  die,  said,   'How  peace- 

l  Nikolai's  was  a  very  religioiis  nature. 
127 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

fully  he  has  passed  away ! '  But  I  know  what 
a  torture  death  has  been  to  him,  because  none  of 
his  feelings  escaped  me.  A  thousand  times  I  say 
to  myself,  *  Let  the  dead  bury  their  dead ; '  but 
what  shall  I  do  with  the  remaining  strength? 
One  cannot  persuade  a  stone  to  change  its 
course  and  fall  upwards  instead  of  to  the  earth 
whither  it  is  drawn ;  one  cannot  laugh  at  a  joke 
which  has  grown  tedious ;  one  cannot  eat  when 
the  hunger  is  satisfied.  To  what  purpose  is 
everything,  when  to-morrow  is  to  begin  the  death 
agony  with  all  the  mysteries  of  a  lie,  of  self- 
deception,  —  and  it  all  ends  in  nothing  for  you  ? 
Is  n't  it  amusing  ?  *  Be  virtuous,  be  useful,  happy, 
as  long  as  you  live,'  say  the  people  one  to  an- 
other, and  you  say,  that  happiness  and  virtue 
have  their  root  in  truth.  But  the  truth  which 
I  have  discovered  in  my  thirty-two  years  is,  that 
life  is  terrible.  You  write,  *  Take  life  as  you  find 
it,  because  you  yourself  are  to  blame  for  the 
position  in  which  you  find  yourself.'  I  take  life 
as  I  find  it,  but  as  soon  as  man  has  reached  the 
highest  plane  of  his  development,  the  truth  which 
he  loves  above  everything  else  is  awful.  When 
one  comes  to  see  that  clearly  and  plainly,  he 

128 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

wakes,  and  says  like  my  brother,  'What  is  that  ? ' 
Yet  it  is  plain  that  as  long  as  one  wishes  to  know 
the  truth  and  to  tell  it,  he  endeavors  to  know  it 
and  to  tell  it ;  that  is  the  only  thing  in  the  world 
of  morals  which  remains  for  me,  and  higher  I 
cannot  go.  This  one  thing  I  shall  do ;  but  not 
in  your  form  of  art.  Art  is  a  lie,  and  I  cannot 
longer  love  a  lie,  although  it  is  beautiful.  .  .  . 
I  shall  remain  here  this  winter ;  for,  after  all,  it 
is  the  same  thing  where  I  live." 

Thus  deeply  crushed,  with  views  of  life  of  a 
decidedly  somber  color,  and  a  theory  of  his  own 
art  like  that  which  he  announces  decades  later  in 
his  "  Confessions,"  he  nevertheless  gathered  both 
courage  and  strength,  left  the  Riviera  and  went 
to  Geneva ;  from  there  again  to  Italy,  through 
which  he  made  an  extended  trip,  and  where  he 
gave  its  art  a  more  careful  glance.  In  Mar- 
seilles, where  he  stopped  on  his  way  to  Paris,  he 
visited  the  public  and  industrial  schools,  and  came 
in  touch  with  the  social  movement  of  France. 

From  Paris  he  went  to  London.  England 
always  stood  high  in  his  estimation,  although 
he  did  not  like  that  type  of  the  English  which 
traverses  the  whole  world  and  is  disappointed  if 

129 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

it  does  not  find  all  of  it  to  be  a  suburb  of  London. 
"  It  is  the  country  of  the  noblest  ideals  and  yet 
also  of  the  coarsest  materialism,"  Tolstoy  said  in 
a  passing  conversation  ;  and  from  the  idealistic 
standpoint  it  was  to  him  the  most  sympathetic 
of  any  country  in  Europe.  He  felt  himself  espe- 
cially attracted  to  Ruskin,  and  although  they 
never  met  they  were  closely  related  in  spirit. 
Both  were  aristocrats  to  their  very  finger-tips, 
and  both  were  making  the  way  straight  for  the 
coming  of  a  democracy.  Both  were  artistic  na- 
tures, yet  laid  great  stress  upon  the  value  of 
common  labor.  Both  formulated  theories  of  arts 
in  which  they  were  not  masters,  and  which  have 
caused  much  shaking  of  heads  among  the  artists. 
Ruskin  was  as  intense  as  Tolstoy,  but  not  so 
concentrated ;  he  was  as  religious  but  without 
being  so  rationalistic.  In  both  of  them  the  reli- 
gious element  is  an  important  part,  and  both 
have  interpreted  it  "in  terms  of  human  rela- 
tions." Tolstoy  attended  a  session  in  the  House 
of  Parliament.  He  visited  the  Tower  and  the 
dreadful  East  Side  of  London,  where  he  saw  civili- 
zation at  its  worst.  He  went  to  Brussels,  where 
he  remained  but  a  short  time,  and,  returning  to 

130 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Russia  by  way  of  Germany,  he  visited  Weimar, 
Gotha,  and  Eisenach.  In  Eisenach  he  cHmbed  to 
the  Wartburgh,  —  another  Luther,  he,  bom  on 
a  brighter  day,  in  a  darker  country.  In  a  visit- 
or's book  he  wrote  a  sentence  short  and  true : 
"  Luther  is  great."  Tolstoy  and  Luther  are  not 
so  far  apart  as  passing  time  has  made  them ;  and 
they  have  fought  upon  the  same  battlefield  with 
nearly  the  same  weapons  and  the  same  enemy. 

In  1861  Tolstoy  was  again  in  St.  Petersburg ; 
and  from  there  he  went  through  Moscow  to  Yas- 
naya  Polyana.  With  the  full  determination  to 
make  use  of  the  experiences  gathered  abroad, 
he  immediately  asked  the  government  for  the 
privilege  of  establishing  a  public  school  in  which 
he  wished  to  develop  his  pedagogic  ideas. 

This  year  was  an  unfortunate  one  for  Tolstoy, 
for  it  brought  a  complete  severing  of  friendly 
relations  with  Turgenieff.  The  cause,  as  usual, 
was  a  trivial  one.  They  were  the  guests  of 
"Fyett"  on  his  estate  in  Stepnakoff,  and  Tur- 
genieff was  telling  of  the  education  of  his  ille- 
gitimate daughter.  He  had  engaged  for  her  a 
governess  who  was  very  anxious  to  develop  in 
her  the  altruistic  feeling.   "Now,"  he  said,  "she 

131 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

makes  my  daughter  mend  the  clothes  of  the  poor 
people/'  "And  do  you  approve  that?"  asked 
Tolstoy.  "  Of  course  I  do ;  it  brings  the  child  in 
touch  with  the  real  need  of  the  people."  "  And 
I,"  replied  Tolstoy  hotly,  "  believe  that  a  finely 
dressed  child  mending  dirty  clothes  is  simply 
performing  a  theatrical  scene."  "I  won't  let 
anybody  talk  that  way  to  me,"  replied  Tur- 
genieff,  not  over-gently.  "And  why  should  I 
not  say  just  what  I  think?"  was  Tolstoy's  battle- 
cry.  One  word  brought  another,  and  the  damage 
done  was  so  great  that  a  duel  was  talked  of  but 
fortunately  averted.  This  little  incident  kept 
these  two  great  men  apart  for  nearly  seventeen 
years,  to  their  mutual  regret ;  and  both  of  them 
were  to  blame,  although  neither  of  them  acknow- 
ledged it.  The  unprejudiced  lookers-on  cannot 
help  putting  more  blame  upon  Tolstoy,  whose 
exaggerated  sense  of  truth  knew  no  bounds,  and 
who  needlessly  offended  a  great  man  and  a  loyal 
friend  and  admirer.  Tolstoy  suspected  Tur- 
genieff  of  professional  jealousy ;  but  there  was 
never  a  trace  of  it  in  him,  and  he  treated  the 
younger  man  with  the  most  generous  respect. 
They  were  two  opposite  natures,  as  Turgenieff 

132 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

said  :  one  of  them,  Turgenieff,  a  modern,  a 
Westerner,  and  an  artist,  every  fiber  of  his  be- 
ing in  the  present ;  and  Tolstoy,  although  just 
as  little  a  child  of  the  past,  eager  to  roll  time 
backward,  to  turn  away  not  only  from  all  the 
achievements  of  civilization,  but  also  from  his 
own  deeds  and  talents,  to  become  "  a  voice  in 
the  wilderness." 

He  wrote  this  year  the  already  spoken  of 
**  Cossacks,"  built  upon  material  brought  from  the 
Caucasus ;  a  shorter  story,  "  Polikushka,"  which 
he  regarded  as  "  mere  stuff  "  which  "  any  man 
might  write  who  could  wield  a  pen."  He  also 
organized  his  school,  published  a  pedagogic  jour- 
nal called  "Yasnaya  Polyana,"  made  plans  for 
new  literary  work,  and  held  the  office  of  justice 
of  the  peace,  which  was  no  sinecure,  inasmuch 
as  it  meant  settling  the  quarrels  which  arose 
after  the  liberation  of  the  serfs,  and  the  allot- 
ment of  land  to  them.  Tolstoy  says :  "  Through 
that  year  I  was  justice  of  the  peace,  school- 
teacher, journalist,  and  author,  and  nearly  un- 
nerved myself  by  the  tasks,  the  struggle  in  my 
court  was  so  great  and  my  work  in  the  school 
so  unsatisfactory.     My  writing  in  the   'Jour- 

133 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

nal/  talking  one  way  and  then  another,  which 
came  from  the  desire  to  teach  everybody  and 
yet  to  hide  the  fact  that  I  knew  not  what  to 
teach,  grew  so  repulsive  to  me  that  I  threw  the 
whole  thing  aside  and  went  to  the  'Steppes,'  to  the 
*  Bashkires,'  to  drink  *  kumiss,'  to  breathe  fresh 
air,  and  to  lead  a  purely  animal  life."  Strength- 
ened, he  returned  from  the  "  Steppes  "  in  the 
south  of  Russia ;  the  skies  grew  brighter,  his 
courage  had  risen,  his  hold  on  life  was  stronger, 
and  he  began  to  think  seriously  of  marriage; 
which  was  to  end  his  dissatisfaction  with  life 
and  bring  the  long-sought  quiet  and  happiness. 


134 


CHAPTER  IX 

TOLSTOY'S  MARRIAGE  AND  FAMILY  LIFE 

No  human  problem  which  pressed  itself  upon 
Tolstoy  was  permitted  to  work  itself  out  secretly. 
"  I  have  no  secrets,"  he  says ;  "  everybody  may 
know  what  I  am  doing;"  and  from  the  first 
perplexing  questions  which  troubled  the  half- 
awake  brain  of  the  child,  through  the  whole 
scale  of  human  emotions,  he  permits  us  to  listen 
to  him  as  he  tries  to  answer  or  solve  them. 
With  the  same  frankness  with  which  he  un- 
covers the  heart  of  the  child  and  youth,  he  re- 
veals the  heart  of  the  man  who  is  beginning  to 
feel  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  his  first  true  love. 
When  he  tells  in  his  story,  "  Family  Happiness," 
of  the  growth  of  the  love  of  Sergei  Michaelo- 
vitsch  for  Mascha,  the  daughter  of  a  childhood's 
friend,  he  is  simply  telling  the  story  of  his  own 
love  for  Sofia  Andreyevna,  whose  mother,  a  Rus- 
sian woman,  was  his  dear  friend  (and  only  about 
a  year  and  a  half  his  senior),  and  whose  father 

135 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

was  Dr.  Baer,  a  German  physician.  Tolstoy  was 
attracted  to  their  home,  not  only  by  the  friend- 
ship which  bound  him  to  the  mother,  but  also 
because  he  found  in  its  pure  and  hospitable 
atmosphere  much  of  that  which  other  houses 
lacked.  Countess  Tolstoy  says  that  her  husband 
was  attracted  to  her  parents'  home  because  of 
its  fine  aristocratic  spirit,  while  he  maintains 
that  it  was  because  of  the  democratic  principles 
which  prevailed  in  it ;  for  the  daughters  not  only 
knew  how  to  speak  four  languages  fluently  and 
play  the  piano  artistically,  but  could  supervise  a 
household,  and  if  necessary  perform  all  the  labor 
themselves. 

Although  Tolstoy  was  many  years  older  than 
the  young  woman  upon  whom  his  choice  had 
fallen,  his  love  from  the  first  was  ardent  and 
strong.  He  hesitated,  however,  to  declare  it,  and 
his  attentions  were  so  general  that  the  friends 
who  kept  a  watchful  eye  upon  him  could  not 
determine  whether  his  visits  were  intended  for 
the  mother  or  the  daughters,  and,  if  for  the 
daughters,  for  which  one.  The  burdens  by 
which  he  had  loaded  himself  grew  greater  every 
day ;  the  government  had  looked  with  suspicion 

136 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

upon  his  schools,  the  problem  of  developing  his 
own  life  according  to  his  high  standards  grew 
more  difficult,  and  he  yearned  for  the  life  of 
which  he  had  long  dreamed  —  "  life  by  the  side 
of  a  pure  woman  who  would  breathe  peace  upon 
him  and  who,  while  sharing  his  labor,  would  in- 
crease his  joy."  If  ever  a  man  thought  of  mar- 
riage "  advisedly  and  soberly,"  it  was  Tolstoy ; 
for  although  he  was  drawn  to  Moscow  by  that 
resistless  power  which  he  knew  to  be  the  power 
of  love,  he  withstood  the  temptation  to  declare 
himself,  and  looked  in  silent  admiration  upon 
the  young  girl,  in  whom  the  promises  of  a 
beautiful  womanhood  were  beginning  to  be 
fulfilled. 

One  day  that  same  autumn  a  carriage  drove 
into  the  park  at  Yasnaya  Polyana,  and  out  of  it 
sprang  three  young  women,  who  were  followed 
by  their  mother,  Mrs.  Baer.  They  were  on  the 
way  to  their  grandfather's  estate,  some  fifty 
versts  behind  Yasnaya  Polyana,  and  a  short  stop 
among  their  friends  was  as  pleasant  to  them  as 
it  was  to  Tolstoy,  to  whom  their  presence  brought 
great  delight  and  seemed  a  fulfillment  of  his 
dreams.    Sofia,  the  second  daughter,  was  what 

137 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

we  would  call  "a  tomboy,  but  without  very  much 
emphasis  on  the  boy;  for  she  was  womanly, 
graceful,  and  beautiful,  yet  as  "playful  as  a 
kitten."  She  loved  tennis  and  other  outdoor 
sports,  jumped  over  fences  and  ditches,  climbed 
trees,  and  made  the  woods  ring  from  her  laugh- 
ter. Somber  old  Yasnaya  Polyana  seemed  to 
have  been  re-created  by  the  presence  of  this 
young  fairy,  whose  every  step  Tolstoy  followed 
and  upon  whom  his  eyes  rested  fondly.  For  him 
there  existed  only  two  classes  of  women  —  "  the 
one,  which  was  composed  of  all  the  women  in 
the  world  except  Sofia,  and  who  were  heirs  to 
all  the  feminine  faults,  just  common  human 
beings — and  the  other  class,  just  her  alone, 
without  a  fault  and  high  above  all  others."  Al- 
though no  one  knew  that  his  attentions  were 
centered  upon  her  (and  the  mother  thought  that 
they  were  surely  intended  for  her  eldest  daugh- 
ter), Sofia,  with  that  intuition  which  belongs  to 
woman,  had  not  only  divined  his  love,  but  it  had 
also  awakened  in  her  the  same  feeling. 

Mrs.  Baer  and  her  daughters  left  Yasnaya 
Polyana  after  a  three  days'  visit,  and  there  was 
something  in  the  glance  of  Tolstoy's  eyes  and 

138 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

in  the  pressure  of  his  hand  when  he  bade  Sofia 
good-by  which  made  his  riding  after  them  in  a 
few  days  and  his  appearance  at  Ivizy  quite  nat- 
ural and  not  unexpected  to  her.  He  came  with 
the  strong  desire  to  ask  Sofia  to  be  his  wife ;  and 
while  they  were  alone  under  a  shading  tree,  she 
sitting  on  a  wooden  bench  in  front  of  a  table,  he 
looking  down  on  her  chestnut-brown  hair  and 
into  her  grayish-blue  eyes,  the  desire  ripened 
into  determination.  She  was  playing  with  a  piece 
of  chalk,  writing  on  the  table,  or  rather  just  mak- 
ing marks,  when  he  said  :  "  I  have  been  wishing 
to  ask  you  something  for  a  long  time;"  and  the 
grayish-blue  eyes  looked  into  his,  frightened  but 
friendly,  as  she  said :  "Please  ask."  He  took  the 
piece  of  chalk  out  of  her  fingers,  and  wrote  the 
first  letters  of  the  words  of  a  sentence  which 
was  very  complicated  and  which  she  had  to  de- 
cipher. "  And  what  is  this,  and  what  is  that  ?  " 
he  asked  of  one  word  after  another ;  and  with 
wrinkled  forehead  and  blushing  cheek  she  an- 
swered him.  "  And  this  word  ?  "  he  asked  again, 
and  she  said,  "It  means  never,  but  it  is  not 
so ; "  and  taking  the  crumbling  chalk  from  him, 
she  wrote  four  letters  which  did  not  form  the 

139 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

words  of  an  intricate  sentence,  and  he  needed 
no  one  to  ask  him,  "  What  is  this,  or  what  is 
that?"  He  knew  what  they  meant;  for  all  she 
wrote  was  e-v-e-r.  This  declaration  of  his  love  he 
used  in  a  more  complicated  form  in  his  "Anna 
Kar^nina,"  where  Levin  thus  declares  himself 
to  Kitty,  his  future  wife.  While  in  the  story  the 
mother  seemed  at  first  opposed  to  the  union,  in 
reality  it  was  the  father.  Dr.  Baer,  who  bluntly 
and  definitely  refused  to  give  his  consent.  He 
wished  to  see  his  oldest  daughter  married  first ; 
and  not  until  Tolstoy  threatened  to  shoot  him- 
self if  the  father  persisted  in  his  refusal  did  he 
yield. 

Tolstoy  wished  to  be  married  immediately ;  he 
did  not  understand  why  he  should  have  to  wait 
for  the  consummation  of  his  wishes  until  the 
trousseau  was  finished ;  and  he  begged  off  month 
after  month  of  the  time  set  by  Mrs.  Baer,  until 
finally  the  23d  of  September,  1862,  was  settled 
upon  as  the  date  on  which  the  ceremony  was  to 
be  performed.  He  went  at  everything  connected 
with  the  business  of  being  married  in  an  awk- 
ward and  reluctant  fashion.  His  struggle  was 
especially  great  when  he  had  to  go  to  confes- 

140 


/        It-  \ 


u  (^r^. 


LEO  TOLSTOY,  JR. 

The  son  who  has  literary  tastes 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

sion,  a  matter  which  he  had  long  neglected  and 
in  which  he  did  not  believe,  but  without  which 
he  could  not  marry.  Yet  he  would  have  gone 
through  the  fire  if  it  had  been  between  him  and 
his  Sofia ;  so  he  went  to  the  church  and  down 
upon  his  stiff  knees,  receiving  absolution  from 
the  gentle,  simple-minded  priest,  "  who,  indeed, 
could  pull  a  tooth  without  hurting ; "  or,  in  other 
words,  who  could  forgive  sins  without  disturbing 
the  conscience.  Tolstoy  listened  to  the  service 
now  absent-mindedly  and  now  critically ;  for  al- 
though he  did  not  believe  anything,  he  did  not 
yet  know  but  that  he  ought  to ;  and  while  he 
denied  his  faith  before  the  priest,  he  was  not  quite 
sure  when  he  reached  home  whether,  in  trying 
to  be  perfectly  honest,  he  had  not  after  all  told 
an  untruth. 

The  day  of  the  wedding  found  Tolstoy  more 
nervous  and  excited  than  the  cool-headed  bride. 
He  had  to  be  ordered  about  like  a  school-boy,  and 
was  as  much  confused  about  the  right  and  left 
hand  as  a  raw  Russian  recruit  who  receives  his 
first  lesson  in  drilling.  He  felt  deeply  the  quickly 
mumbled  words  of  the  priest ;  and  the  music  of 
the  invisible  choir  which  repeated  over  and  over 

141 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

again,  "  Bless  them,  0  Lord ! "  echoed  in  his 
heart.  "  Eternal  Lord,"  prayed  the  priest,  "  who 
hast  united  that  which  was  separated,  who  hast 
made  the  indissoluble  ties  of  love,  and  who 
blessed  Isaac  and  Rebecca,  these  are  their  de- 
scendants according  to  the  covenant.  Bless  them, 
these  thy  servants,  Leo  and  Sofia,  whom  I  my- 
self bless  ;  for  thou  art  a  most  merciful  God,  full 
of  love  for  men,  and  we  praise  thee,  the  Father, 
and  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  throughout 
eternity,  amen."  The  rings  were  exchanged,  but 
not  without  their  first  being  mixed  ;  the  priest 
said,  "  We  unite  the  servant  of  God,  Leo,  to  the 
handmaid  of  God,  Sofia ; "  and  Tolstoy  had  en- 
tered into  the  long-looked-for  harbor.  "Fyett, 
dear  old  boy,  dearest  friend,"  wrote  Tolstoy, 
intoxicated  by  his  happiness,  "I  am  married 
two  weeks  and  am  a  new,  an  entirely  new  crea- 
ture." 

Sofia  entered  completely  into  the  thoughts  and 
plans  of  her  husband.  She  was  as  idealistic  as 
he,  but  much  more  practical ;  she  took  posses- 
sion of  keys  and  closets,  brought  order  into  con- 
fusion, and  drove  the  leisurely  horde  of  servants 
and  peasants  into  desperation,  if  not  into  a  faster 

142 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

gait.  She  had  inherited  from  her  father  some- 
thing of  German  thrift ;  and  the  rubles  were  not 
permitted  to  roll  out  faster  than  the  kopeks  came 
walking  in.  She  kept  the  books  and  the  cash,  be- 
came general  manager  and  overseer,  and  again 
Tolstoy  writes  to  "  Fyett,"  "  I  have  made  an  impor- 
tant discovery :  Inspectors,  overseers,  and  village 
elders  are  a  nuisance.  I  have  done  away  with 
them,  and  Sofia  and  I  are  way  up  to  our  eyes  in 
farming.  We  have  bees,  sheep,  a  new  orchard, 
and  a  distillery.  I  live  in  a  world  which  lies  so 
far  away  from  all  literature  and  all  criticism  that 
when  I  receive  a  letter  like  yours,  my  first 
thought  is  one  of  astonishment  and  surprise 
as  to  who  has  written  'The  Cossacks,'  or  'Poli- 
kushka'!" 

In  the  summer  of  the  next  year  "  Fyett "  came 
on  a  visit  to  which  he  had  been  repeatedly  urged ; 
and  he  paints  in  glowing  colors  the  idyllic  pic- 
ture which  he  saw.  Dressed  in  a  light  gown, 
Sofia  came  running  to  meet  him  among  the  white 
birches,  a  sapling  herself;  Tolstoy  was  at  the 
pond,  catching  crabs  which  they  had  for  supper. 
Everything  was  bright,  hopeful,  full  of  life  and 
full  of  peace.   It  was  a  glorious  evening  which 

143 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

he  spent  with  them ;  there  was  no  trace  of  any 
pressing  problem,  and  no  weighty  questions  were 
discussed.  It  was  just  life  at  its  best ;  a  self- 
effacing  life  in  which  Tolstoy  forgot  himself  and 
all  the  problems  of  existence. 

The  young  couple  was  not  spared  some  dis- 
illusions, for  Tolstoy  was  still  very  human  and 
his  wife  had  never  pretended  to  be  anything  else. 
He  loved  her  passionately  and  trusted  her  im- 
plicitly ;  yet  he  was  jealous,  and  when  the  yellow 
monster  controlled  him  most,  he  looked  every- 
where for  an  imaginary  lover,  and  then  was 
heartily  ashamed  of  himself.  On  the  28th  of 
June,  1863,  their  eldest  child  was  bom.  With 
its  first  cry  Tolstoy  awoke  from  his  dream,  and 
the  old  questioning  spirit  began  to  torment  him 
again  about  the  meaning  of  life  and  its  develop- 
ment. Neither  his  happy  marriage  nor  the  birth 
of  his  child  could  fill  so  large  a  life  completely ; 
nor  did  the  teaching  in  the  schools  and  writing 
his  pedagogic  journal  satisfy  him. 

"  The  Linen-Measurer  "  is  the  only  thing  he 
wrote  during  the  early  part  of  his  married  life. 
It  is  the  story  of  a  horse  which  philosophizes 
about  property,  society,  and  humanity  in  general ; 

144 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

and  grew  out  of  Tolstoy's  love  for  horses  and  his 
critical  attitude  toward  society.  So  artistically  is 
this  done  that  one  scarcely  realizes  the  fact  that 
it  is  impossible  for  a  poor,  halting  horse  to  think 
so  logically  and  intelligently.  Tolstoy  has  the 
same  love  for  animals  that  characterizes  the 
Russian  mujik,  who  makes  household  pets  of 
them,  and  lives  so  close  to  his  stock  that  he  and 
they  grow  like  one  another,  — patient,  slow,  and 
meditative.  Walking  through  the  markets  of 
Moscow  with  a  friend,  Tolstoy  pointed  to  the 
small,  unkempt,  good-natured  horse  which  stood 
among  the  pots  and  kettles  that  the  mujik  had 
brought  to  the  market,  and  noticed  this  very 
resemblance.  He  never  passed  a  horse  without 
petting  it,  and  when  it  was  ill-treated  he  felt  for 
it  as  for  a  human  being. 

The  years  up  to  1877  were  filled  by  diligent 
work :  the  writing  of  his  longest  two  stories, 
the  looking  after  his  estate,  which  he  tried  to 
improve  in  every  way  possible,  teaching  in  the 
public  schools,  and,  what  was  the  most  impor- 
tant, training  his  own  children.  "War  and 
Peace,"  which  took  five  years  for  completion, 
needed  constant  and  painstaking  historical  study ; 

145 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

but  books  were  far  away  and  difBcult  to  get. 
The  Russian  censor  kept  strict  watch  upon  every- 
thing that  breathed  thought  from  the  printed 
page.  The  libraries  in  Moscow  which  were  well 
stocked  by  historic  books  were  always  in  confu- 
sion ;  for  there  was  no  catalogue  (neither  is  there 
yet  one,  although  it  has  been  coming  for  some 
thirty  years),  and  Tolstoy  had  to  work  painfully 
and  laboriously.  His  most  productive  time  was 
winter,  or  when  winter  was  passing  away,  when 
the  huts  of  the  peasants  began  to  be  thawed  out 
from  the  surrounding  snow.  Spring  brought  the 
cares  of  the  farm,  which  were  constantly  grow- 
ing greater ;  for  in  the  measure  in  which  he  tried 
to  carry  on  the  work  intelligently,  the  peasants 
grew  more  stupid  and  less  reliable.  When  he 
wrote  to  "  Fyett "  about  the  progress  of  his  sto- 
ries, he  never  forgot  to  mention  his  timothy  and 
clover,  or  his  sick  horse,  and  to  ask  for  this  or 
that  favor,  from  the  buying  of  a  rope  to  an  agri- 
cultural implement.  When  spring  came,  which 
in  Russia  does  not  come  like  a  "  dancing  psal- 
tress,"  but  like  a  troop  of  rough,  boisterous  boys, 
his  thoughts  turned  ardently  toward  that  side 
of  nature  which  cannot  be  plowed  or  sown ;  and 

146 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

in  imagination  he  saw  the  coming  summer  in  all 
its  beauty.  "A  friend  is  good,  but  Nature  is 
better ;  she  is  a  friend  whom  one  does  not  lose 
in  death,  for  when  one  dies  he  is  completely  re- 
united with  her."  He  feels  that  Nature  is  the 
one  thing  that  connects  him  with  the  higher 
world  ;  and  "  if  one  were  not  conscious  of  her,  so 
that  in  stumbling  one  can  catch  hold  of  her,  life 
were  an  evil  thing  indeed." 

Tolstoy  grew  mentally  lazy  in  the  summer ; 
the  physical  and  mental  joys  were  so  great  that 
he  forgot  or  neglected  the  pen.  Visitors  came 
flocking  during  that  season,  and  although  he 
jealously  guarded  his  time  and  strength,  he  was 
always  a  genial  host,  who  thought  it  his  duty 
to  entertain  the  company,  and  always  was  the 
soul  of  it.  "  Fyett "  writes  to  him  that  he  is 
alone,  and  he  replies,  somewhat  fretfully,  "  For- 
tunate man  to  be  alone.  I  have  a  wife,  three 
children,  and  a  baby,  all  of  whom  are  sick. 
Fever  and  heat,  headaches,  coughs,"  the  whole 
catalogue  of  infants*  diseases,  had  descended 
upon  them  and  kept  him  from  work.  He  is  glad 
when  visitors  come,  even  if  only  to  quarrel  with 
them;  and  he  does  quarrel  with  most  of  them, 

147 


TOLSTOY  tHE  MAN 

although  good-naturedly.  Often  he  complains: 
"I  am  doing  nothing;  it  is  a  dull,  dead  time 
with  me ;  I  do  not  think  or  write,  but  feel  my- 
self pleasantly  stupid."  This  stupidity  was  in 
reality  his  period  of  ripening ;  thoughts  crowded 
his  brain  thick  and  fast,  and  he  absorbed  them 
like  a  sponge.  He  read  much  of  the  German, 
French,  and  English  classics,  but  they  made  no 
impression  upon  him.  Schopenhauer  came  to 
him  like  a  revelation,  and  he  was  astonished  that 
no  one  had  discovered  that  pessimistic  genius ; 
unless  it  was,  as  Schopenhauer  so  often  says, 
that  "  besides  idiots,  there  are  no  human  beings 
in  the  world." 

The  next  year  Tolstoy  began  the  study  of 
classic  languages,  a  matter  which  he  had  neg- 
lected in  his  youth,  and  in  which  he  now  found 
much  pleasure.  "  From  morning  till  night,"  he 
writes, "  I  learn  Greek  and  do  nothing  else.  I  now 
read  Xenophon  at  sight,  although  for  Homer  I 
use  a  dictionary,  as  it  gives  me  a  little  trouble. 
I  am  happy  that  God  has  sent  me  this  foolish 
notion.  First  of  all,  I  find  real  pleasure  in  it ; 
secondly,  I  realize  that  I  never  knew  what  beau- 
tiful and  what  beautifully  simple  things  have 

148 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

been  created  by  the  words  of  man ;  and,  thirdly, 
I  do  not  and  shall  not  write  mere  verbiage." 
The  intense  study  of  the  Greek,  which  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  study  of  Hebrew,  brought  on  an 
illness,  and  for  a  time  it  looked  as  if  the  dreaded 
consumption  had  fastened  itself  upon  him.  He 
went  to  Samara  to  drink  kumiss,  and  returned 
strengthened,  ready  for  the  greater  work  before 
him.  Following  his  illness  came  the  death  of  the 
youngest  boy;  treacherous  croup  had  choked 
out  the  little  life,  bringing  sorrow  and  sadness  to 
Tolstoy,  but  especially  to  his  wife,  who,  in  spite 
of  her  physical  strength,  suffered  deeply  from 
this  affliction,  upon  which  still  others  were  to 
follow. 

Tolstoy's  aunt,  Tatyana  Alexandrovna,  died 
not  quite  a  year  afterwards,  and  he  writes  :  "She 
died  slowly  and  gradually.  I  have  been  used  to 
death ;  nevertheless,  hers  was,  as  is  the  death 
of  each  person  who  is  near  and  dear  to  us,  a  new 
and  terrible  experience."  It  was  to  him  like 
losing  his  mother ;  for  she  had  been  with  him 
from  his  earliest  years  until  he  left  her  to  go  to 
the  university.  Another  child,  a  ten-months-old 
baby,  died  during  the  same  year,  so  that  the 

149 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

angel  of  death  had  scarcely  turned  from  their 
door  until  he  came  again. 

The  education  of  the  children  was  no  little 
task,  and  one  which  was  entered  into  with  much 
thought,  but  in  which  the  parents  were  not  a 
unit.  The  Countess  did  not  wish  her  children  to 
serve  as  an  experiment,  and  they  received  the 
customary  education  in  the  usual  manner,  through 
tutors  and  governesses.  It  is  true  that  much 
liberty  was  given  them,  that  they  were  not  driven 
to  their  tasks,  and  that  they  were  the  constant 
companions  of  their  parents ;  but  the  method 
was  a  compromise,  and  brought  none  but  the 
customary  results.  Strong  as  Tolstoy  was  in  his 
convictions,  he  did  not  feel  that  he  should  force 
his  wife  and  children  into  his  way  of  thinking ; 
and  at  Yasnaya  Polyana  it  was  soon  the  fash- 
ion for  every  one  to  go  his  own  way.  Friends 
of  the  family  call  this  coming  and  going  and 
do-as-you-please  fashion  the  "Tolstoy  style"; 
and  it  has  its  advantages  as  well  as  its  disad- 
vantages. 

Countess  Tolstoy  was  in  many  respects  a  model 
wife,  and  to  be  the  wife  of  a  genius  is  no  easy 
task.  Uncomplainingly  and  joyfully,  she  bore 

150 


MARIA  LEVOVNA 

The  second  daughter 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

him  thirteen  children  in  twenty-seven  years, 
nursing  all  of  them  but  one  herself.  She  was 
their  companion  and  friend,  and  nine  of  them 
grew  into  manhood  and  womanhood  by  her  side. 
For  love  of  her  husband  she  buried  herself  with 
him  in  Yasnaya  Polyana,  until  she  thought  that 
for  the  sake  of  the  children  they  must  move  to 
Moscow.  She  went  with  him  through  every 
phase  of  his  moral  and  spiritual  development, 
and  stopped  short  only  when  to  continue  would 
have  endangered  the  educational  and  social  stand- 
ing of  the  children.  One  cannot  blame  her  for 
stopping  just  where  she  did  stop,  but  one  cannot 
help  regretting  it.  True  it  is  that  the  children 
might  have  grown  up  like  peasants ;  but  they 
would  have  been  the  sires  of  such  a  peasantry  as 
Russia  has  never  known,  and  of  which  it  is  sorely 
in  need.  Nine  such  peasants  would  have  stood  like 
strong  pillars  in  a  new  social  temple,  while  they 
are  now  nine  aristocrats  among  ninety  thousand 
or  more  of  their  kind,  no  worse  and  no  better 
than  the  others.  Among  the  sons,  Leo,  Jr.,  alone 
has  literary  tendencies  and  some  talent.  He  has 
written  a  number  of  plays,  and  in  one  of  them 
his  father  discovers  real  dramatic  power,  although 

151 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

the  public  does  not  seem  to  share  this  opinion. 
He  is  married  to  an  excellent  Danish  woman  and 
lives  in  St.  Petersburg,  where  he  is  endeavoring 
to  be  of  some  public  service.  Another  son  is  an 
official  of  the  government,  while  the  others 
have  married  rich  wives.  Two  of  the  daughters 
have  married  nobles  of  the  highest  rank;  so 
that  nearly  all  his  children  have  gone  over  into 
the  camp  of  his  sworn  enemies.  During  these 
years  Tolstoy  was  beginning  to  know  that  he  was 
made  of  the  stuff  of  which  martyrs  are  made ; 
and  martyrs  and  reformers  ought  never  to  marry. 
No  man  can  press  a  thorny  crown  upon  the  head 
of  the  wife  and  the  children  he  loves ;  and  a  wife 
of  Countess  Tolstoy's  tender  and  devoted  nature 
can  always  slip  a  piece  of  velvet  under  her  hus- 
band's crown  just  where  he  wishes  it  to  press 
most  heavily.  She  always  knew  what  he  needed, 
even  if  he  did  not  wish  it,  and  although  he  was 
beginning  to  sway  the  world  by  his  thought,  he 
was  often  swayed  by  her  thoughtfulness.  Had 
Tolstoy  married  a  woman  less  practical,  less  de- 
voted to  the  material  side  of  his  interest,  and  less 
careful  of  everything  that  concerned  his  health 
and  comfort,  he  would  no  doubt  have  died  long 

it;2 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

ago ;  but  many  people  ask  themselves  whether 
he  would  not  have  lived  longer ;  for  he  would 
have  died  either  a  victim  of  his  enemies  or  a 
sacrifice  to  his  principles;  and  these  insure  a 
longer  immortality  than  being  cuddled  in  a  soft 
bed  and  living  beyond  the  allotted  threescore 
years  and  ten. 


153 


CHAPTER  X 

TOLSTOY  AS  PEDAGOGUE 

The  difference  between  a  Russian  aristocrat  and 
a  peasant  is  social,  rather  than  cultural  as  it  is 
in  Poland,  for  instance,  where  the  two  seem  to 
belong  to  separate  races  and  nowhere  have  a 
point  of  contact.  In  Russia  they  are  more  closely- 
related  than  the  aristocrat  allows,  or  the  peasant 
knows.  They  are  "  chips  of  the  same  block  "  ;  the 
one  carved  and  polished,  and  not  always  thor- 
oughly, the  other  rough  and  crude,  lying  just 
where  he  fell ;  and  the  two  are  an  immeasur- 
able distance  apart.  In  Tolstoy  they  seemed  to 
meet ;  for  he  is  the  finest  product  of  the  Russian 
aristocracy,  and  feels  himself  drawn  toward  it, 
although  he  resists  the  attraction  as  best  he  can 
resist  it.  At  the  same  time  his  love  for  the  soil, 
for  the  homely  peasant  and  his  homelier  beasts, 
manifests  itself  strongly  in  him,  and  he  was  the 
first  to  cry  out :  "  Take  your  feet  from  the  body  of 
the  peasant ;  for  you  are  trampling  on  your  own 

154 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

flesh."  He  was  quick  to  see  the  unspoiled  good 
in  him,  and  for  the  good  which  was  spoiled  he 
felt  himself  and  his  class  responsible. 

The  Russian  peasant  is,  like  all  Russians  and 
all  other  human  beings,  more  or  less,  a  big  bun- 
dle of  contrasts.  He  is  faithful  and  suspicious, 
honest  and  false,  simple-minded  yet  shrewd,  in- 
dustrious and  lazy,  good-natured  yet  a  furious 
fighter.  He  is  one  of  Russia's  many  unsolved 
problems  and  unfinished  products  which  Tolstoy 
felt  it  his  duty  to  help  solve  and  finish.  On  the 
19th  of  February,  1861,  during  his  absence 
abroad,  the  edict  which  liberated  the  serfs  had 
been  signed  and  the  difficult  task  of  readjustment 
was  about  to  begin.  As  most  of  the  serf -owners 
looked  upon  the  emancipation  of  the  serfs  as 
ruinous  to  themselves  and  the  peasantry,  the  gov- 
ernment found  in  them  a  great  unwillingness  to 
obey  the  new  and  revolutionary  law.  A  few, 
including  Tolstoy,  had  set  their  serfs  free  before 
the  law  was  passed ;  but  to  the  majority  it  was 
a  greater  hardship  than  was  the  freeing  of  the 
slaves  for  the  Southerners,  as  the  Russians  not 
only  had  to  give  up  their  human  property  but 
also  much  land,  for  which,  however,  they  were 

155 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

to  be  recompensed;  but  the  payment  was  to 
be  slow  and  long  drawn  out.  Each  peasant 
was  to  begin  his  new  existence  as  a  land-owner, 
and  to  the  former  serf -owners  themselves  was 
intrusted  the  task  of  reorganization.  Tolstoy- 
was  appointed  by  the  Senate  as  one  "  mirovoy," 
or  justice  of  the  peace,  before  whom  differences 
were  adjusted  and  quarrels  laid  aside.  To  him  it 
was  no  empty  honor,  nor  was  he  unfitted  for  the 
office ;  for  he  was  strong  yet  tender,  he  had  an 
abnormal  sense  of  right  and  yet  was  peace-loving. 
He  was  a  splendid  organizer,  and  it  is  fair  to  say 
that  the  peasants  in  his  district,  although  they 
were  judged  by  a  superior,  were  served  as  by 
one  of  their  own  number.  There  was  no  little 
complaint  made  by  the  owners  of  the  "  souls,"  as 
the  serfs  were  called,  because  of  his  partiality 
towards  them ;  and  although  he  tried  to  be  per- 
fectly just  to  both  parties,  he  had  small  patience 
with  those  of  his  neighbors  who  saw  in  the 
mujik  an  inferior  being,  born  for  servitude  only. 
The  peasants  were  also  hard  to  manage,  for  they 
had  no  idea  of  the  difference  between  mine  and 
thine,  and  when  it  came  to  the  division  of  pro- 
perty, they  could  not  see  why  they  might  not 

156 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

have  this  piece  of  land  as  well  as  that,  or  why 
this  noble  could  not  dispense  with  a  particular 
bit  of  meadow  which  they  desired.  Once  very 
servile,  they  now  tried  to  take  the  bit  into  their 
own  mouths  and  run  away,  quite  unconscious  of 
the  fact  that  they  were  still  passengers  in  the 
cart  which  they  were  pulling  and  that  the  only 
fundamental  difference  between  their  new  rela- 
tion and  the  old  one  was  that  now  they  would 
be  paid  for  the  pulling,  while  formerly  they  got 
but  scant  food  and  much  whipping  if  the  master 
was  so  inclined. 

Tolstoy  saw  in  the  serfs*  emancipation  a  ful- 
fillment of  his  own  desires,  but  could  not  help 
feeling  disappointed  later  as  to  its  material  re- 
sults for  the  peasants.  He  never  thought  that 
this  humane  act  came  too  soon,  but  he  felt  after 
a  few  years  that  the  peasants  were  not  quite 
capable  of  taking  care  of  themselves.  They  had 
a  chance  to  buy  land  but  did  not  do  so ;  they  could 
easily  have  increased  their  stock,  but  instead  of 
that  it  decreased  ;  the  soil  which  they  might  have 
improved  grew  more  impoverished;  and  when 
they  should  have  aided  one  another  in  their 
new  communal  life,  selfishness  as  well  as  poverty 

157 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

increased.  The  freeing  of  the  serfs  did  not  quite 
solve  the  problem,  because  the  product,  the  pea- 
santry, had  to  be  finished  first,  and  Tolstoy  contin- 
ued with  still  greater  ardor  the  education  of  that 
incomplete,  overgrown  child,  the  mujik.  Tolstoy 
had  begun  his  educational  experiment  very 
young,  when  he  knew  but  little  about  pedagogic 
principles  and  was  not  aware  that  the  organiza- 
tion of  private  schools  was  not  permitted  by  the 
government.  He  had  gone  abroad  largely  to 
study  the  schools  in  the  west  of  Europe,  quite 
unconsciously  obeying  the  almost  universal  prin- 
ciple that  "  nations  go  West  to  study,  and  East 
to  teach."  In  1859  he  organized  two  schools 
near  his  estate,  and  when  he  returned  in  1861  a 
third  one  was  added.  He  had  brought  with  him 
a  German  assistant  and  four  university  students 
from  Moscow,  whom  he  had  trained  for  this 
special  task.  In  December  of  the  same  year  a 
fourth  school  had  to  be  opened ;  and  before  long 
Tolstoy  was  the  superintendent,  principal,  and 
teacher  of  twelve  schools,  which  he  constantly 
visited  and  in  which  he  taught  the  Russian  lan- 
guage, singing,  drawing,  and  Biblical  history. 
The  central  school  was  at  Yasnaya  Polyana,  in  a 

158 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

wing  of  his  residence,  and  consisted  of  two  rooms, 
a  physical  cabinet,  and  adjoining  them  two  liv- 
ing-rooms for  the  teachers.  Manual  training  was 
also  attempted,  and  a  carpenter's  bench  stood  in 
the  hall  above,  while  in  the  one  below  it  was  a 
crude  gymnastic  apparatus. 

The  first  principle  which  Tolstoy  announced 
was  that  there  should  be  absolutely  no  compul- 
sion used  anywhere  in  any  way.  Perfect  liberty 
was  the  watchword  ;  if  the  peasant  did  not  care 
to  go  to  school,  it  simply  proved  that  the  educa- 
tional system,  as  well  as  its  product,  was  unsatis- 
factory. "  What  right  have  we,"  he  says  in  his 
pedagogic  journal,  "  to  force  a  peasant  to  study, 
when  we  do  not  quite  know  what  or  how  to 
teach?  The  West  has  a  method  which  has  an 
historic  development,  and  it  can  be  defended 
upon  that  ground ;  but  in  Russia  we  do  not  know 
yet  what  is  good  and  what  is  ill."  There  was  to 
be  no  imitating  any  method ;  there  was,  indeed, 
to  be  no  method,  or,  as  he  puts  the  whole  mat- 
ter tersely,  "  The  only  method  of  education  is  to 
experiment;  the  only  standard.  Liberty."  Or 
somewhat  more  clearly  he  says  again,  "The 
public  schools  should  meet  the  needs  of  the 

159 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

people ;  but  what  these  needs  are  can  only  be  dis- 
covered by  studying  them  and  experimenting 
upon  them."  His  school  was  conducted  in  this 
way :  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  a  bell  was 
rung  by  one  of  the  boys  who  slept  in  the  school ; 
for  in  winter  not  all  the  children  could  return 
to  their  homes.  The  bell  was  a  signal  and  not  a 
call,  and  who  would  come,  came.  If  they  were  in 
time,  well  and  good ;  if  they  were  tardy,  no  one 
noticed  it.  They  carried  nothing  in  the  shape 
of  books,  as  all  the  work  was  done  in  the  school- 
room and  not  much  of  it  out  of  books.  The 
children  could  make  all  the  noise  they  wished 
to,  and  they  took  full  advantage  of  the  privilege, 
although  not  any  more  than  in  some  schools 
where  they  are  supposed  to  be  "seen  and  not 
heard."  Nor  did  the  noise  subside  when  the 
teacher  appeared  ;  and  when  he  opened  the  desk 
to  distribute  the  books  and  writing  materials 
they  rushed  at  him,  each  one  eager  to  get  his 
own  first.  The  seats  were  not  assigned  accord- 
ing to  any  method,  but  each  child  sat  just  where 
he  chose;  some  sat  on  the  floor,  others  stood 
near  the  teacher's  desk,  and  all  did  just  as  they 
pleased.   Children  of  one  neighborhood  natu- 

i6o 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

rally  flocked  with  one  another,  and  the  girls  also 
naturally  drifted  toward  each  other.  They  stayed 
in  the  school-room  seven  hours ;  but  of  these  so 
many  were  filled  by  apparent  play  and  so  few  by 
work  that  no  one  found  them  too  long.  Russian 
history  and  religion  were  taught  in  one  room, 
and  all  the  children  attended  those  classes  to- 
gether. Although  there  was  a  regular  schedule, 
it  was  seldom  adhered  to ;  for  the  teacher  al- 
lowed himself  the  same  liberty  which  he  gave  to 
the  children.  He  taught  as  long  as  he  thought 
that  they  cared  for  a  subject,  and  often  prolonged 
a  lesson  because  they  were  in  the  "  swing  "  of  it ; 
while  another  theme  was  no  sooner  begun  than 
it  was  changed  because  the  school  was  not  in 
the  mood  for  it.  When  the  children  were  most 
interested,  as  in  reading  or  history,  they  crowded 
close  to  the  teacher  in  pellmell  fashion ;  although 
by  instinctive  courtesy  the  girls  and  the  smaller 
boys  were  permitted  to  stand  closest  to  him. 

When  Tolstoy  entered  a  room  everything 
stopped,  and  the  pupils  surrounded  him  beg- 
ging for  a  story;  for  the  children  knew  him 
to  be  a  splendid  story-teller,  and  they  listened 
to  him  as  attentively  as  did  the  grown-ups  the 

i6i 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

world  over.  Many  of  his  best  folk-tales  have 
their  origin  in  these  school-room  visits,  and  he 
frankly  acknowledges  that  the  children  helped 
him  to  make  them.  He  told  them  about  his  im- 
prisonment in  the  Caucasus,  his  adventures  with 
bears,  described  the  antics  of  his  favorite  dogs, 
retold  according  to  Russian  taste  the  "  Arabian 
Nights,"  and  wrote  for  them  what  is  regarded  as 
one  of  his  finest  folk-tales,  "  God  sees  the  truth, 
though  He  does  not  tell  it  at  once."  A  primer 
which  he  wrote  at  that  time  has  gone  through 
twenty  editions,  and  is  still  popular  with  the 
people  as  well  as  with  the  educators.  If  the 
weather  was  good,  Tolstoy  and  the  children  ran 
out  of  the  school-room  into  the  woods,  to  the 
meadow,  or  the  pond.  They  bathed  and  fished 
together,  and  in  the  winter  made  snow-men  or 
pelted  one  another  with  snowballs.  The  foremost 
boy  among  them  was  Tolstoy  himself,  who  was 
the  leader  in  all  their  pranks. 

This  method,  although  he  did  not  permit  it  to 
be  called  that,  attracted  and  received  its  full 
share  of  criticism.  A  school  without  law,  order, 
or  schedule,  and  with  teachers  and  principals 
who  behaved  themselves  like  little  boys,  was 

162 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

something  to  be  severely  condemned.  The  one 
criticism  which  both  the  state  and  the  individual 
made  in  common  was,  that  pupils  from  such  a 
school  could  not  be  trained  to  be  good  subjects 
of  an  autocratic  government,  or  desirable  chil- 
dren of  parents  who  exacted  obedience.  Tolstoy 
replied  that  it  was  not  the  business  of  his  schools 
to  train,  but  to  educate ;  that  training  rested 
upon  force  and  law,  and  had  its  reason  in  the 
state,  the  church,  the  family,  and  society  as 
they  were  organized.  "  It  is  reasonable,"  he  said, 
"that  the  state  wishes  to  train,  for  it  needs  men 
for  various  purposes  to  fit  into  the  niches  already 
built  for  them;  the  church  also  wants  the 
children  trained,  so  that  they  may  obey  and  be- 
lieve ;  so  does  the  family,  because  it  wishes  the 
children  to  grow  into  something  of  the  same 
fashion  as  the  parents."  Society,  he  claimed, 
desired  children  trained  in  a  certain  way,  for 
no  healthful  purpose,  but  simply  to  satisfy  the 
pride  of  the  human  mind.  Consequently  its 
methods  bear  the  most  dangerous  fruit :  such 
as  universities  and  university  training.  He 
judged  all  such  institutions  by  those  of  Kazan 
and  Moscow,  and  their  fruits  by  the  educated 

163 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

proletariat  which  they  created,  and  so  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  universities  serve  no  good 
purpose.  "For  they  do  not  spring  from  any 
real  need  felt  by  the  people,  they  do  not  train 
those  necessary  to  humanity,  but  only  such  as  a 
corrupted  society  needs."  The  West,  he  declared, 
had  universities  because  they  grew  and  devel- 
oped with  the  people,  and  perhaps  served  their 
purpose ;  but  the  East  had  its  development  still 
before  it,  and  one  does  not  know  just  what  uni- 
versities it  will  need,  if  any.  To  Tolstoy,  Russia 
was  a  world  apart,  which  could  healthfully  de- 
velop only  according  to  the  character  of  its  peo- 
ple, whom  he  considered  radically  different  from 
those  in  the  West ;  a  thought  that  has  served 
to  strengthen  the  Slavophilic  movement  which 
makes  this  its  chief  doctrine,  but  in  a  much 
less  humble  spirit. 

While  Tolstoy  did  not  believe  in  training  a 
child,  he  believed  in  its  education,  which  he 
thinks  should  be  based  upon  the  individuality 
of  the  child,  and  therefore  should  ^give  the  com- 
pletest  liberty.  "  The  school  is  not  to  have  rigid 
schedules  and  far-reaching  plans;  but  every 
science  is  to  be  studied   and  taught  in  the 

164 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

completest  freedom,  and  it  will  gradually  and 
harmoniously  adjust  itself  to  the  needs  of  men. 
The  school,  then,  is  not  an  institution  in  which 
to  train  children,  or  to  force  knowledge  upon 
them,  but  it  is  to  influence  the  child  definitely ; 
and  influence  is  without  force." 

He  pictures  a  school  in  which  everything 
which  a  child  instinctively  dreads  shall  be  ab- 
sent. No  high  desk  for  the  teacher,  no  straight, 
monotonous  rows  of  benches,  no  long  wastes  of 
blackboards  before  which  children  feel  them- 
selves so  small  and  insignificant.  His  ideal  is 
that  everything  should  constantly  change  with 
the  needs  and  tastes  of  the  children.  A  school 
as  he  saw  it  was  to  be  a  kindergarten,  univer- 
sity, museum,  theater,  picture-gallery,  forest, 
library,  and  meadow,  all  blending  into  one.  This 
was  indefinite  enough ;  but  it  had  in  it  the  peda- 
gogic ideals  of  the  future.  Tolstoy  knew  that 
his  plans  were  idealistic  and  that  the  coming 
generations  would  cling  to  their  institutions  as 
they  found  them,  "  upon  the  principle  of  the  sick 
man  who  said :  *  The  medicine  has  been  bought, 
therefore  I  must  drink  it.'  " 

More  radical  than  his  method  of  education, 
i65 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

and  in  greater  contrast  to  present  standards,  was 
his  view  of  its  aim  and  purpose.  Markff,  the 
inspector  of  the  Latin  School  in  Tula,  a  very 
excellent  pedagogue  and  a  personal  friend  of 
Tolstoy's,  wrote  a  criticism  of  his  school  in  which 
he  says,  in  brief,  that  "  Upon  the  education  of 
the  younger  generation  by  the  old,  upon  the  com- 
munication of  its  views  and  conclusions  to  the 
younger  generation,  which  give  it  a  basis  for 
development,  upon  these  rests  the  progress  of 
humanity."  In  answer  to  which  Tolstoy  comes 
out  bluntly,  and  says :  "  I  do  not  believe  in  this 
progress,  it  is  not  a  universal  law ;  progress  is 
not  always  necessary,  nor  is  it  always  good. 
Progress  in  one  direction  is  paid  for  by  a  back- 
ward step  in  another.  In  Russia  only  the  useless 
classes  believe  in  progress;  nine  tenths  do  not 
believe  in  it;  for  it  does  not  add  anything  to 
their  happiness.  The  peasant  does  not  need  the 
telegraph,  or  the  railroads  which  entice  him  from 
the  country  to  the  city,  neither  does  he  need  the 
printing-press ;  he  is  not  quite  sure  that  reading 
does  not  spoil  him.  We  must  believe  the  pea- 
sants more  than  we  do  society ;  for  they  are  in 
the  majority  and  without  them  society  cannot 

i66 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

live ;  but  the  peasant  can  live  without  society." 
He  does  not  believe  in  progress,  and  therefore 
does  not  think  that  one  generation  has  a  right 
to  interfere  in  the  education  of  the  next.  Here 
it  was  pointed  out  that  Tolstoy  overrated  the 
peasant,  and,  moreover,  that  he  acted  contrary 
to  his  principle,  the  very  existence  of  his  school 
being  the  proof  of  it.  He  defines  education  as 
"  A  human  activity  which  has  back  of  it  a  desire 
for  equality  in  knowledge,  and  the  fundamental 
law  of  the  self-progression  of  knowledge."  Fi- 
nally, he  came  to  this  conclusion :  "  We  must  go 
to  school  to  the  children  and  not  the  children  to 
us."  Their  simplicity  and  honesty,  their  native 
intuitions,  their  great  thoughts,  which  sprang  up 
quite  unconsciously,  his  great  love  for  them,  by 
which  he  measured  all  their  virtues,  his  love  for 
everything  natural,  and  his  abhorrence  for  every- 
thing artificial,  made  him  echo  the  saying  of  a 
prophet  of  long  ago :  "A  little  child  shall  lead 
them."  He  studied  them  intently;  the  birth  of 
each  thought,  its  formation  into  speech,  its  trans- 
ference to  paper ;  all  this  he  felt  through  and 
through ;  becoming  as  much  as  possible  "  like 
the  least  of  these  little  ones,"  he  saw  their 

167 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

kingdom.  He  found  in  them  the  creative  power 
of  the  artist,  and  full  of  astonishment  he  cries 
out :  "  I  was  surprised  and  frightened  when  I 
made  this  discovery;  I  felt  like  a  treasure- 
seeker  who  has  discovered  the  magic  root  by 
which  he  will  find  the  prize  he  desired ;  or  as 
one  who  comes  suddenly  upon  the  Stone  of  Wis- 
dom which  he  has  sought  incessantly  for  years." 
One  story  which  has  appeared  among  his  works 
is  the  product  of  these  children,  and  is  called 
"  Soldier's  Life."  It  is  the  biography  of  a  boy 
whose  drunken  father  is  sent  away  among  the 
soldiers  and  who  comes  home  a  new  man.  Tolstoy 
thinks  that  nothing  better  than  this  has  been 
written  in  Russian  literature,  and  he  bases  his 
opinion  upon  the  fact  of  its  naturalness  and 
simplicity.  He  felt  the  Old  Testament  to  be  a 
great  source  of  inspiration,  and  the  children 
disclosed  to  him  its  simple  grandeur.  He  says : 
"I  tried  to  teach  them  the  New  Testament, 
geography,  the  history  of  Russia,  and  natural 
history ;  everything  was  easily  forgotten,  and 
listened  to  rather  unwillingly.  Only  the  Old 
Testament  remained  in  their  memories,  was  lis- 
tened to  delightedly,  and  retold  by  them  when 

i68 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

they  reached  their  homes.  It  stayed  with  them 
to  this  degree,  that,  after  two  months,  they 
could,  with  only  a  few  mistakes,  write  down 
what  they  had  heard.  I  believe  that  the  Old 
Testament,  this  book  of  the  childhood  of  the 
race,  will  always  remain  the  best  book  for  the 
childhood  of  every  man."  Tolstoy  does  not  be- 
lieve in  expurgated  or  abridged  editions  of  the 
Scripture,  but  thinks  it  should  be  read  by  every 
child,  with  all  its  secret  and  sacred  thoughts  and 
its  great  and  lofty  poetry,  which  bring  him  under 
the  enchantment  of  this  new  and  old  world,  and 
which  awaken  in  him  the  desire  to  develop  him- 
self. To  Tolstoy  it  is  the  power  which  lifts  the 
curtain  before  the  child,  who  willingly  enters 
that  world  and  reaches  out  after  the  New  Tes- 
tament, after  the  history  of  his  own  country, 
and  the  sciences  of  nature.  "  There  is  no  book 
like  the  Bible  to  open  to  the  child  this  new 
world,  and  to  hold  him  to  love  and  to  know- 
ledge. I  mean  this  also  for  those  who  do  not 
believe  it  to  be  a  revelation.  I  do  not  know  a 
book  which  gives  in  such  compact  and  poetic 
form  every  phase  of  human  ideas  as  the  Bible. 
All  the  questions  which  arise  out  of  the  mani- 

169 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

festations  of  nature  have  their  answer  here; 
all  the  original  relations  of  man  to  man,  the 
family,  the  state,  religion,  are  known  for  the 
first  time  through  this  book.  The  power  of  truth, 
and  wisdom  in  its  simple,  childish  form,  take  hold 
of  the  child's  mind  with  their  powerful  charm. 
The  Psalms  of  David  influence  not  only  the 
thought  of  the  child,  but  he  learns  to  know  for 
the  first  time  the  whole  fascination  of  poetry  in 
its  inimitable  purity  and  strength.  Who  of  us 
has  not  wept  over  the  story  of  Joseph  and  his 
brethren,  or  listened  to  the  story  of  the  shorn 
Samson  with  much  anxiety  and  beating  of  the 
heart ;  and  who  has  not  received  all  those  other 
hundreds  of  noble  impressions  which  we  have 
drawn  in  as  with  our  mother's  milk  ?  I  repeat 
it,"  he  says,  "  without  the  Bible  the  education 
of  the  child  in  the  present  state  of  society  is 
impossible." 

Strange,  new,  revolutionary,  and  impracticable 
as  was  Tolstoy's  pedagogic  activity,  it  worked 
untold  good,  and  it  was  due  not  to  his  method 
or  lack  of  it,  but  to  his  deep,  pure,  and  unselfish 
love  for  every  child  that  touched  him.  The 
school  was  a  family,  and  it  was  remarkably 

170 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

fortunate  in  its  father.  Each  child  was  to  him  a 
perfect  work  of  the  Creator ;  he  did  not  believe 
that  it  was  "  vile  and  full  of  sin."  He  believed 
implicitly,  with  One  greater  than  himself,  who 
put  a  little  child  in  the  midst,  and  said  of  it, 
"  Except  ye  become  as  this  little  child,  ye  shall 
in  no  wise  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven." 
That  kingdom  he  considered  the  goal  of  the  race ; 
and  all  education  had  to  prepare  for  it,  even  if 
the  child  was  not  lifted  one  inch  toward  what 
men  call  progress.  These  simple  thoughts  were 
still  wrapped  in  much  philosophic  verbiage  ;  but 
little  by  little  they  unwound  themselves  from 
their  binding  grave-clothes,  to  stand  out  clear 
and  vivid,  the  goal  of  his  own  life  as  well  as 
that  of  the  human  family,  in  which  he  was  be- 
ginning to  feel  himself  "  the  chief  of  sinners," 
and  "  not  the  least  among  the  apostles." 


171 


CHAPTER  XI 


"war  and  peace" 


It  was  no  wonder  that  Tolstoy's  health  suffered 
during  the  period  of  his  manifold  activities.  He 
was  judge,  teacher,  farmer,  journalist,  and  "  last 
but  not  least,"  author.  Quietly,  like  a  miner  in  the 
depths,  and  just  as  painfully,  he  worked,  gather- 
ing his  material  for  a  large  historic  novel  which 
was  to  be  called  "  The  Decembrists,"  and  based 
upon  the  suppressed  political  rising  in  December, 
1825,  the  year  in  which  Nicholas  I.  ascended  the 
throne.  Tolstoy's  personal  acquaintance  with 
some  of  the  participants  in  the  movement  led 
him  to  the  consideration  of  that  theme.  One  chap- 
ter was  written  and  the  whole  fairly  well  sketched 
when,  in  studying  the  period  which  led  to  this 
little  upheaval,  he  came  upon  that  great,  dark, 
and  terrible  picture  of  the  Napoleonic  invasion. 
It  so  fascinated  him,  as  it  fascinates  every  one 
who  reads  the  history  of  Russia  or  of  France, 
that  he  cast  aside  the  subject  and  the  material 

172 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

of  the  first  story  and  began  his  "War  and 
Peace,"  to  which  he  gave  five  years  of  prepara- 
tion, but  which  was  written  and  finished  in  a 
surprisingly  short  time.  In  November,  1864,  he 
writes  to  "Fyett"  :  "I  am  much  downcast  and 
do  not  write  at  all ;  nevertheless,  I  am  working 
really  painfully.  You  cannot  imagine  how  hard 
this  preparation  is ;  this  deep  plowing  of  the  soil 
upon  which  I  am  driven  to  cast  my  seed.  To  con- 
sider and  reconsider  what  will  happen  to  these 
human  beings  of  my  story,  which  is  to  be  a  huge 
work,  to  think  out  milHons  of  possibilities  and 
then  choose  the  millionth  part  of  them,  is  tre- 
mendously difficult." 

In  1865  he  could  already  announce  to  "  Fyett" 
the  completion  of  the  first  part ;  and  he  writes 
thus :  "  These  days  there  is  being  printed  the 
first  half  of  the  first  volume  of  my  story.  Please 
let  me  know  what  you  think  of  it.  You  will  see 
that  everything  that  I  have  written  thus  far  was 
only  trivial ;  but  that  which  I  have  now  written 
I  think  more  of.  I  am  glad  that  you  like  my 
wife,  but  alas !  I  now  love  her  less  than  I  do 
my  novels ; "  and  he  adds,  also  jokingly,  "  The 
greater  I  grow,  the  less  I  love  you." 

173 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

In  November,  1866,  he  writes  again  to  this 
same  friend,  who  was  always  a  very  conscientious 
critic,  "  In  your  last  letter  you  tell  me  some  very 
interesting  things  concerning  my  novel.  I  am 
quite  satisfied  by  what  you  say  of  my  hero  Prince 
Andrey ;  he  is  a  tedious,  monotonous  fellow,  and 
only  in  the  first  part  is  he  comme  il  faut.  You 
are  right  about  that,  but  it  is  my  fault  and  not 
his.  Besides  the  characters  and  their  movements 
and  meetings  one  with  the  other,  I  still  have  to 
work  on  the  historic  part,  and  I  doubt  that  I  shall 
be  able  to  pull  through.  I  have  recognized  my 
fault  and  hope  that  I  have  corrected  it  to  your 
satisfaction.  Please,  dear  friend,  let  me  know 
just  what  you  find  wrong  in  my  story." 

In  1869  the  work  was  finished  ;  and  upon  its 
publication  it  was  hailed  by  Russian  critics  as  the 
greatest  novel  of  the  nineteenth  century.  This 
was  superlative  praise,  but  praise  in  which  readers 
and  critics  the  world  over  almost  unanimously 
agreed.  His  great  talent  is  seen  not  only  in  the 
portraiture  of  classes  and  individuals,  which  is 
done  with  a  rare  fidelity,  but  by  the  ease  with 
which  the  whole  is  written,  and  which  nowhere 
betrays  the  fact  that  back  of  it  is  much  hard  study, 

174 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

and  all  through  it  the  most  painstaking  labor. 
Turgenieff ,  who  was  not  a  biased  critic,  wrote 
of  it :  " '  War  and  Peace'  is  the  most  poetic  and 
artistic,  the  most  beautiful  and  complete  work 
which  has  appeared  in  our  literature/^  When  an- 
other Russian  critic  writes  that  "  the  story  has  no 
rival  in  the  whole  world,"  we  detect  just  a  little 
exaggeration ;  but  he  is  perfectly  right  when  he 
says :  "  This  work  is  a  splendid  picture  of  the 
struggle  of  our  whole  nation.  Marvelous  is  Tol- 
stoy's knowledge  of  the  character  of  the  Russian 
people,  the  clearness  and  purity  of  his  views  of 
life,  and  the  historic  and  philosophic  importance 
of  his  characters.  He  has  reproduced  the  whole 
epoch  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  historians,  who 
believe  it  to  be  scientifically  correct." 

While  the  work  has  no  scientific  connection 
with  his  former  stories,  which  were  largely 
biographical,  or  at  least  of  his  own  time,  it 
is  closely  related  to  them.  It  represents  Tol- 
stoy's mental  and  spiritual  progress  as  he  speaks 
now  through  one  and  now  through  another  of 
his  characters,  many  of  whom  were  patterned 
after  his  relatives  who  had  a  part  in  that  famous 
struggle.  The  critics,  including  Turgenieff,  found 

175 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

fault  with  his  mysticism  and  with  his  emphasis 
upon  religious  and  philosophical  problems  which 
are  woven  through  this  book,  and  which  seem  a 
little  didactic  and  put  of  place.  No  one,  however, 
can  write  a  story  of  the  Russian  people  without 
discussing  these  questions;  especially  during 
a  crisis,  when  such  thoughts  filled  the  Russian 
mind.  Napoleon  was  to  the  people  the  "  Anti- 
christ," the  war  a  punishment,  and  the  victory 
the  return  of  God's  favor.  Nearly  everything 
which  Napoleon  did  not  destroy,  be  it  a  holy  pic- 
ture, a  shrine,  or  a  monastery,  has  remained  to 
them  a  proof  of  the  divine  miracle.  To-day 
one  may  have  pointed  out  to  him,  by  fairly  in- 
telligent people,  a  picture  of  the  Virgin,  in  the 
Kreml,  at  which  it  is  said  a  soldier  shot,  and  the 
bullet  was  deflected  in  a  miraculous  way,  killing 
the  iconoclast  himself. 

"  War  and  Peace  "  is  the  history  of  three  ar- 
istocratic families  widely  different  from  one 
another,  but  altogether  making  a  composite  pic- 
ture of  Russian  society.  We  see  them  in  their 
palaces  in  St.  Petersburg,  in  the  fashionable 
salons  of  Moscow,  in  the  seclusion  of  their  coun- 
try homes.  We  meet  them  at  the  chase,  in  their 

176 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

social  intrigues,  in  field  and  forest,  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, and  in  the  splendor  of  their  feasts  and 
festivals.  Roused  from  their  lethargy  and  weaned 
from  their  luxuries,  we  see  them  again  on  the 
battlefield  in  the  thick  of  the  fight,  in  camp  by  the 
flickering  watch-fires,  with  their  backs  tpward  the 
victorious  foe.  In  Moscow  we  see  them  once  more 
starving  and  pale  in  the  lurid  light  of  that  con- 
flagration which  destroyed  a  city  hut  saved  a 
nation  ;  and  at  last  in  the  deep,  cold  snow,  the 
pall  of  the  French  army  in  its  flight  to  France. 
Count  Ilya  Rostoff  is  that  type  of  the  Russian 
aristocrat,  unfortunately  not  rare,  who  is  bom 
"  bon-vivant  and  epicure."  Everything  which  he 
does  not  care  to  study  he  dismisses  and  solves 
by  saying :  "  Splendid."  Of  culture  he  knows  no- 
thing, of  gastronomy  everything.  The  intricate 
mixture  of  a  sauce,  the  roasting  of  a  prairie 
chicken,  are  his  fields  of  investigation,  and 
with  them  his  brain  and  teeth  are  busy.  He  has 
debts  from  which  he  will  never  be  able  to  free 
himself,  nor  does  he  greatly  care  to  do  so.  He 
reaches  bottom  very  soon,  but  never  ceases  to 
be  a  good  father,  and  (what  is  somewhat  more 
remarkable  in  that  sphere  of  Russian  society), 

177 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

a  faithful  husband,  although  his  wife  is  ill  and 
exceedingly  nervous.  They  have  four  children  : 
Vera,  Nikolai,  Natasha,  and  little  Petya.  Nikolai 
is  a  soldier,  somewhat  stupid  and  slow,  who  sel- 
dom departs  from  a  safe  and  well-beaten  track. 
Natasha  grows  from  playing  with  dolls  to  the 
longing  for  real  love,  a  romantic  but  pure-minded 
and  extremely  affectionate  child.  "She  was  so 
happy  after  her  first  ball  that  she  thought  every 
human  being  good,  and  did  not  believe  in  the 
possibility  of  evil,  misfortune,  and  sorrow." 

The  Karagins,  the  second  family,  represent  in 
the  head  of  its  household  the  materialistic  aris- 
tocrat who  measures  everything  by  the  stand- 
ard of  its  money  value  and  its  possibility  of 
serving  him  for  his  own  aggrandizement.  Cold, 
calculating,  and  without  feeling,  he  plays  his  part 
in  life  and  plays  it  well.  Of  his  two  sons,  one  is 
stupid,  and  the  other  mad  from  excesses,  think- 
ing only  of  new  spoil  for  his  pleasures.  To  him  life 
is  a  series  of  entertainments  which  some  one  is 
in  duty  bound  to  provide  for  him.  He  is  the 
logical  son  of  such  a  father,  and  to  be  found  to- 
day in  countless  editions  in  the  pleasure  haunts 
of  which  Moscow  and  St.  Petersburg  have  a 

178 


TATYANA  LEVOVNA 

The  oldest  daughter 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

good  share,  and  a  poor  type,  and  in  which  these 
sons  scatter  the  fortunes  of  their  fathers.  The 
daughter  Helene  fits  well  into  this  atmosphere 
of  the  flesh,  being  a  future  adulteress,  whom 
Napoleon  splendidly  characterized  by  saying: 
"  Cest  un  superb  animal'*  Pierre  Besuchoff,  the 
illegitimate  son  of  an  exceedingly  wealthy  father, 
comes  under  the  influence  of  Helene  and  her 
tricky  relatives,  and  marries  her  after  having 
inherited  his  father's  millions  and  some  forty 
thousand  serfs.  Pierre  is  near-sighted  in  more 
than  one  way,  absent-minded  and  angular,  seem- 
ing out  of  place  in  that  society  into  which  the 
Karagins  have  drawn  him.  He  bluntly  tells  just 
what  he  thinks,  nearly  driving  his  diplomatic 
hostesses  into  desperation  by  his  frankness. 

Far  away  from  the  tumult  of  the  city  and  the 
fashionable  crush  of  its  salons,  we  meet  Prince 
Bolkonsky,  the  head  of  the  third  family.  He 
belongs  to  that  real  aristocracy,  rare  in  every 
country,  rarer  in  Russia ;  an  aristocracy  which,  it 
is  true,  is  very  proud,  but  which  has  good  reason 
to  be  so.  The  Prince  has  been  banished  to  his  es- 
tate on  account  of  his  political  ideas,  and  although 
the  term  of  his  exile  has  long  passed,  he  remains 

179 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

just  where  he  was  sent ;  for,  he  says,  "  If  they 
want  me  at  court,  let  them  send  for  me."  They 
do  need  him,  and  the  chief  dignitaries  of 
Russia  come  and  ask  his  assistance  in  the  war 
then  in  progress.  He  is  a  man  who  is  severe 
toward  his  subordinates,  among  whom  one  must 
count  his  daughter  Marya,  whom  he  loves  in 
his  haughty  way,  and  who  always  prays,  be- 
fore a  meeting  between  herself  and  her  father, 
that  it  may  pass  off  peacefully.  If  she  has 
a  thought  of  rebellion  she  blames  herself,  and 
thinks  that  she  has  sinned.  She  is  very  homely, 
like  nearly  all  the  good  people  portrayed  by  Tol- 
stoy, who,  if  he  were  to  paint  or  describe  the 
Christ,  would  no  doubt  do  so  after  the  manner 
of  the  prophet  Isaiah,  as  "  A  root  out  of  a  dry 
ground  :  he  hath  no  form  nor  comeliness ;  and 
when  we  shall  see  him,  there  is  no  beauty  that 
we  should  desire  him."  But  Marya  with  all  her 
homeliness  is  beautiful,  because  out  of  her  large 
blue  eyes  shines  the  love  of  Christ,  "  who  suffered 
because  he  loved  men,  although  he  was  God." 
Marya's  aim  and  desire  are  to  bless  all  who  hate 
her  and  despitefully  use  her,  and  to  serve  all 
who  need  her.    "For  all  the  intricate  laws  of 

i8o 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

human  society  she  finds  a  solution  in  the  law  of 
love  and  self-sacrifice."  Her  brother  Andrey  is 
as  proud  as  his  father,  but  more  ambitious.  War 
is  a  field  from  which  to  mount  to  glory  ;  so  he 
leaves  his  wife,  with  whom  he  is  not  very  happy, 
and  joins  the  staff  of  General  Kutusoff .  Splendid, 
and  characteristic  of  father  and  son,  is  their 
parting.  "Now,  farewell."  He  turned  his  cheek 
to  the  son  for  a  kiss,  and  embracing  him  said : 
"  Remember  this  one  thing,  Prince  Andrey  :  if 
you  fall  I  shall  suffer."  He  was  silent  a  moment, 
then  suddenly  cried  out :  "  But  if  I  hear  that  you 
have  not  carried  yourself  like  the  son  of  Nikolai 
Bolkonsky,  I  shall  be  ashamed."  "That  you 
need  not  tell  me,  father,"  said  the  son,  smiling. 
Wounded  upon  the  battlefield,  looking  into  the 
deep  sky,  he  feels  the  presence  of  the  unknown 
God,  and  becomes  conscious  of  his  own  soul.  He 
says,  after  reasoning  much  about  it,  "There  is 
nothing  so  sure  as  the  nothingness  of  everything 
which  I  have  understood,  and  the  greatness  of 
that  which  I  do  not  understand,  but  which  is 
more  important."  Believed  by  his  relatives  to  be 
dead,  he  returns  at  the  critical  moment  when 
his  wife  gives  birth  to  a  son,  and  her  own  life 

i8i 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

passes  into  the  great  beyond.  After  that  he 
buries  himself  on  his  estate,  wishing  to  forget 
and  be  forgotten.  Pierre,  the  husband  of  He- 
lene,  is  unhappy  in  another  way ;  his  wife  is  not 
loyal  to  him,  and  he  fights  a  duel  with  her  para- 
mour. At  the  time  when  life  seems  such  a  great 
puzzle,  and  everything  soulless  and  material  as 
a  stone,  he  meets  a  Freemason  who  attracts  him 
by  his  ethical  views,  which  are  to  him  a  revela- 
tion and  which  he  accepts.  He  becomes  an  ar- 
dent member  of  the  lodge,  returns  home,  and 
visits  Prince  Andrey,  whom  he  is  able  to  awaken 
from  his  lethargy  to  a  realization  of  his  duty  to 
his  fellow  men.  Natasha  Rostoff,  whom  Andrey 
loves,  is  nearly  ruined  by  Anatol,  Helene's  bro- 
ther, and  Pierre  rescues  her  from  the  impending 
danger.  Andrey  returns  to  the  field  at  Boro- 
dino, and  the  evening  before  the  battle,  appre- 
hensive as  to  its  outcome,  he  looks  back  upon  his 
life  and  sees  clearly  the  vanity  of  all  his  ambi- 
tions. Coarse  and  crude  seem  those  flights  of  his 
imagination  which  had  always  been  so  alluring 
to  him  —  "  Fame,  patriotism,  altruism,  woman's 
love ; "  and  now  everything  pales  before  the  white 
light  of  that  morning  which  is  rising  for  him. 

182 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

His  apprehensions  are  justified,  and  he  is  severely 
wounded.  While  he  is  being  cared  for,  he  hears 
next  to  him  weeping  and  lamentation,  and  re- 
cognizes Anatol,  the  would-be  betrayer  of  Nata- 
sha ;  but  instead  of  hate,  he  feels  love  for  him, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  is  his  greatest  en- 
emy. Instead  of  the  feeling  of  revenge,  there 
rises  in  him  the  feeling  of  pity,  and  he  has  an  af- 
fection for  all  men,  whom  he  now  knows  to  be  his 
brothers,  whether  they  love  or  hate  him.  He  feels 
the  love  and  pity  which  his  sister  Marya  had 
taught  him,  and  which  he  never  understood.  Yes, 
he  will  live  that  love,  but  now  it  is  too  late ;  yet 
not  too  late,  for  that  divine  love  never  ceases, 
never  can  be  destroyed.  "  Love  is  the  essence  of 
the  soul."  He  is  taken  back  to  Moscow,  from 
which  every  one  is  fleeing.  The  Rostoff s  are  just 
leaving  the  city;  and  Natasha  persuades  her 
parents  to  take  into  their  wagon  some  of  the 
wounded  soldiers,  although  to  do  so  they  must 
leave  their  valuables  behind.  Thus  it  happens 
that,  by  the  light  of  the  destructive  fire  which 
consumed  Moscow,  Natasha  and  her  lover  meet, 
not  to  part  again  until  he  succumbs  to  his 
wounds.   Marya,  his  sister,  and  Natasha,  through 

183 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

being  together  at  his  bedside,  learn  to  love  each 
other  with  that  pure  love  which  always  emanated 
from  Andrey's  sister. 

Pierre  is  an  idle  looker-on  at  the  battle  of 
Borodino,  but  it  has  great  consequences  for  him 
also.  He  is  fired  by  the  bravery  of  the  Rus- 
sian soldiers,  is  roused  from  his  indifference,  and 
thinks  that  he  will  free  his  country  by  one 
stroke,  —  the  assassination  of  Napoleon.  Before 
he  can  come  near  the  execution  of  his  plans  he 
is  arrested,  and  is  in  danger  of  being  executed 
as  one  of  the  incendiaries.  In  prison  he  meets  a 
co3fnmon  Russian  soldier,  Platon  Karatayeff,  who 
through  his  conduct  communicates  to  him  a  phi- 
losophy of  life.  "  He  lived  in  love,''  Tolstoy  says 
of  him.  "  Not  in  love  to  one  certain  person,  but 
to  all  kuman  beings  whom  he  met.  He  loved 
his  comrades,  he  loved  the  French,  he  loved 
Pierre,  he  loved  even  his  little  dog."  Platon  is 
shot  by  the  French  because  he  is  incapable  of 
marching ;  but  he  continues  to  live  in  Pierre,  who 
is  a  changed  man.  Natasha  says  of  him  to  her 
friends,  "  He  is  so  clean,  so  new,  so  fresh,  as  if 
he  were  coming  out  of  a  bath ;  you  understand, 
out  of  a  moral  bath." 

184 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

In  this  story,  whose  history  unrolls  itself  in 
such  an  interesting  and  tragic  way,  and  which 
ends  happily  in  Pierre^s  marriage  to  Natasha, 
and  Nikolai  RostoS's  to  the  Princess  Marya,  the 
characters  are  but  the  mouthpieces  for  Tolstoy^s 
view  of  life,  which  was  coming  near  the  point  of 
ripening  into  a  definite  philosophy,  arid  of  being 
formulated  into  a  sociology.  He  says :  "  In  nota- 
ble, historic  movements,  the  so-called  great  men 
are  the  labels,  which  name  events  and  periods ; 
but,  just  like  the  labels,  they  have  the  least  to  do 
with  the  events."  To  Tolstoy,  the  hero  of  former 
days,  the  man  who  reaped  all  the  glory,  and  did 
nothing,  Jiad  no  right  to  exist.  To  him  the  masses 
were  the  real  hero ;  to  him  there  is  no  science 
of  warfare ;  and  victory  and  defeat,  everything, 
rest  upon  unknown  laws  beyond  the  control  of 
men.  "  Things  happen  because  they  must  hap- 
pen ; "  a  fatalistic  view  of  history  which  one  finds 
it  difficult  to  share  with  him.  "  War  and  Peace," 
aside  from  its  artistic  merit,  is  a  great  historic 
picture  drawn  vividly  and  impartially,  without 
political  bias.  It  is  less  valuable,  although  not 
less  interesting,  as  a  philosophical  treatise  in 
which  Tolstoy  struggles  with  the  old  problem  of 

185 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

predestination  and  free  will.  It  is  of  supreme 
importance,  because  Tolstoy  discovers  for  us  the 
mass,  the  common,  unknown,  unsung  unit,  which 
is  moved,  not  by  the  will  of  man,  but  by  that 
power  which  we  call  "  Providence."  He  presses 
upon  the  attention  of  thinking  men  the  new  sci- 
ence, sociology.  Above  all,  the  book  is  of  interest 
because  all  through  it  is  the  struggle  of  a  great 
soul  trying  to  understand  the  meaning  of  life. 
After  all  the  attempts  to  unravel  the  tangled 
web  of  crossing  thoughts,  he  says,  through  the 
lips  of  Prince  Andrey,  "  Faith  is  the  power  of 
life."  When  a  man  lives,  he  must  believe  in 
something.  If  he  did  not  believe  that  he  must 
live  for  something,  he  would  die.  Without  faith 
it  is  impossible  for  man  to  live. 

One  who  reads  this  book  for  the  interesting 
story  which  it  tells  would  gladly  dispense  with 
its  sociology  and  philosophy ;  one  who  considers 
the  work  solely  from  its  artistic  standpoint  finds 
Tolstoy's  views  obtrusive,  and  marring  the  beauty 
of  the  whole;  but  they  belong  to  the  autobio- 
graphy of  the  author's  soul,  and  without  them 
the  "  Life  of  Tolstoy,"  which  he  is  writing  into 
every  story,  would  not  be  complete. 

i86 


CHAPTER  XII 


"anna  karenina" 


Any  man  who  was  concerned  about  his  literary 
career  as  such  would  have  continued  the  writing 
of  historic  novels,  after  the  phenomenal  success 
of  "War  and  Peace."  Tolstoy,  however,  was 
being  more  and  more  absorbed  by  the  problem  of 
his  own  life,  and  to  entangle  it  again  into  historic 
events  was  much  too  irksome  ;  nor  did  it  quite 
harmonize  with  his  view  of  the  province  of  his  art. 
He  had  written  a  few  chapters  of  the  discarded 
"  Decembrists,"  and  had  begun  to  study  the  life 
of  Peter  the  Great,  in  preparation  for  a  story 
dealing  with  that  period ;  but  although  he  gave 
a  whole  year  to  this  latter  task,  he  suddenly 
dropped  both  subjects  and  began  his  "Anna 
Karenina." 

The  story  has  no  large  historic  background, 
and  we  are  never  taken  out  of  the  domain  of 
that  small  world  which  calls  itself  by  the  ge- 
neric name,  "  society  " ;  a  domain  which  Tolstoy 

187 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

now  knew  better,  and  loved  less  than  ever.  Weak, 
vacillating  creatures  they  are  whom  he  drew: 
strong  only  in  maintaining  certain  worldly  stand- 
ards, and  outwardly  eager  to  do  the  proper 
thing,  while  leading  a  decidedly  improper  life. 
He  came  in  touch  with  them  every  day :  Betsy 
Tverskaya,  who  with  one  hand  holds  on  to  the 
court  and  with  the  other  digs  in  the  moral  mire ; 
Stepan  Arkadyevitsch  Oblonsky,  who  believes 
that  the  "purpose  of  education  is  to  get  plea- 
sure out  of  everything,"  and  who  manages  to  do 
so,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  poor  Dolly,  his  wife, 
grows  prematurely  old  and  wrinkled,  and  has 
her  life  almost  ruined  because  he  does  not  know 
the  meaning  of  the  seventh  commandment. 

Then  there  is  Vronsky,  who  falls  in  love  with 
Anna,  the  heroine  of  the  story,  the  wife  of  a 
disagreeable  but  conscientious  official.  Vronsky 
has  an  exaggerated  sense  of  that  kind  of  honor 
which  prevails  more  or  less  in  all  military  and 
aristocratic  circles.  He  believes  that  he  must 
pay  his  gambling  debts,  but  that  the  poor  tailor 
may  wait ;  he  believes  that  it  is  wrong  to  cheat 
at  cards,  but  thinks  it  perfectly  proper  to  run 
away  with  another  man's  wife.  These  charac- 

i88 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

ters  Tolstoy  met  daily  in  his  social  intercourse ; 
he  felt  them  as  influences  in  his  own  life,  and 
he  struggled  against  them  and  conquered  them. 
The  plot  of  "Anna  Karenina"  is  the  simplest 
possible ;  although  there  are  really  two  stories 
in  one,  side  by  side,  and  touching  each  other  at 
many  points.  The  one  story  is  that  of  Levin,  a 
homely,  angular,  country-bred  aristocrat,  who  is, 
nevertheless,  thoroughly  democratic  and  feels 
himself  one  with  the  people.  To  love  or  not  to 
love  them  is  not  a  question  for  him,  because  he 
is  a  part  of  them ;  nor  could  he  criticise  the  bad 
or  praise  the  good,  because  he  could  draw  no 
contrasts  between  them  and  himself.  He  works 
with  the  peasants,  eats  his  bread  in  the  sweat  of 
his  brow  as  they  eat,  often  wondering  whether 
he  ought  not  to  throw  aside  all  the  past,  its 
inheritance  and  achievements,  and  in  reality  be- 
come a  peasant.  The  city  is  to  him  a  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah,  a  modem  Babylon ;  and  all  his  natu- 
ralness and  buoyancy  leave  him  as  he  comes  in 
touch  with  its  life.  He  feels  keenly  the  social 
lies  and  insincerities  which  manifest  themselves 
at  calls  and  balls  ;  consequently  he  is  not  a  good 
conversationalist  or  courtier.   He  blushes  like  a 

189 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

girl  when  an  impure  subject  is  broached ;  for  he 
is  not  half  so  bad  as  the  young  and  old  men 
around  him.  He  is  in  love  with  Kitty,  a  beauti- 
ful, but  in  no  way  an  extraordinary  girl,  whom 
he  adores  with  a  pure  and  noble  passion,  and 
finally  marries.  They  move  to  his  estate,  and 
although  the  supermundane  bliss  of  which  he 
dreamed  does  not  quite  materialize,  they  "  live 
happily  ever  after."  In  great  contrast  to  this 
natural  and  idyllic  life  is  that  of  Anna  Kare- 
nina,  who  lives  in  the  world  and  is  of  it ;  whose 
husband  is  cold,  exacting,  lifeless,  and  loveless ; 
"  for  whom  the  word  love  would  not  exist,  if  it 
were  not  in  the  dictionary."  The  moral  atmo- 
sphere which  Anna  breathes  is  poisonous,  and 
she  has  no  hold  upon  anything  but  her  child. 
She  does  not  love  her  husband,  who  is  sixteen 
years  older  than  herself ;  religion  is  absent  from 
her  world,  and  where  it  is  present  it  is  either 
hypocritically  servile  or  mystical  and  false.  She 
meets  Vronsky,  the  young  cavalier,  who  has 
beauty,  youth,  and  strength,  but  no  character; 
although  in  his  world  this  last  quality  is  of  the 
least  importance.  He  and  Anna  seem  drawn 
together  by  some  unseen  force,  and  the  newly 

190 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

awakened  love  is  like  an  uncontrollable  fire 
which  bums  all  bridges  behind  them.  They  go 
abroad  together,  love  each  other,  and  quarrel 
with  each  other.  Returning  to  Russia,  the  ties 
by  which  Anna  holds  him  grow  weaker ;  con- 
scious of  this  and  the  loss  of  her  position  in 
society,  which  closes  its  doors  to  her,  she  throws 
herself  under  a  passing  train.  She  is  tempted 
to  this  mode  of  ending  her  life  by  the  memory 
of  having  first  met  Vronsky  at  a  railroad  sta- 
tion, when  the  maimed  body  of  a  workingman 
was  drawn  from  under  the  wheels  of  the  en- 
gine. 

Somewhat  in  the  background,  but  not  indiffer- 
ently or  indefinitely  drawn,  is  the  character  of 
Dolly,  who  is  small,  wrinkled,  pale,  and  insignifi- 
cant, between  the  splendid  Anna  and  the  lovely 
Kitty.  In  her  mended  jacket,  with  her  faded 
hair  and  complexion,  she  arouses  one's  pity  as 
she  listens  to  Anna,  who  narrates  to  her  the  story 
of  her  downfall.  She  is  the  personification  of 
common,  every-day  virtue,  which  "  has  its  own 
reward "  of  pain,  tears,  and  poverty.  Her  hus- 
band falls  as  low  as,  and  lower  than,  Anna ;  but, 
man-like,  he  has  no  twinges  of  conscience,  and 

191 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

is  unhappy  only  when,  through  the  discovery  of 
his  fall,  the  household  machinery  jars.  Dolly  is 
a  sort  of  feminine  Tolstoy,  and  his  real  heroine. 
Through  a  peasant  "who  lives  for  his  soul 
and  believes  in  God,"  Levin  discovers  the  way 
to  the  life  eternal.  Faith  saves  him  and  his,  and 
makes  his  home  a  center  of  happiness  and  a 
spring  of  life.  On  the  other  side  is  the  home  of 
Anna  Karenina,  in  which  there  is  no  love,  but 
only  unsatisfied  passion ;  no  thought  of  the  soul 
and  so  much  thought  for  the  body ;  no  truth,  but 
every  word  a  deception  and  a  lie ;  no  true  mar- 
riage, but  what  is  really  only  adultery.  Such 
a  home  has  in  it  the  seeds  of  death ;  and  such  a 
life,  which  was  lived  only  for  the  flesh,  must  also 
"of  the  flesh  reap  corruption."  Levin's  soul- 
life  is  with  but  little  change  taken  from  Tolstoy's 
J  own  experience  at  this  stage  of  his  life.  Levin's 
progress  from  unbelief  to  belief  begins  at  the 
deathbed  of  his  brother,  and  ends  when  he  learns 
the  power  of  faith  and  the  secret  of  prayer. 
Faith  comes  to  him  without  blinding  him  as  it 
did  Paul,  or  making  him  ecstatic  as  it  did  Peter, 
at  Pentecost.  Faith  has  not  taken  away  his  old 
happiness,  nor  has  it  overwhelmed  him  by  a  new 

192 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

one.  He  does  not  know  whether  it  is  faith  or  not; 
but  a  new  power  has  come  into  his  life,  has  com- 
forted him  and  brought  him  peace.  He  knows 
that  he  will  remain  a  man,  a  human  man  with 
many  of  his  old  passions  and  desires ;  he  will  still 
be  angry  with  his  peasants,  and  will  never  be 
out  of  the  reach  of  temptation.  "  I  shall  never 
quite  understand  the  meaning  of  prayer,"  he 
says :  "  but  I  shall  always  pray,  and  my  whole 
life  shall  be  independent  of  the  things  which 
happen  to  me.  I  shall  live  no  thoughtless  minute 
as  before  ;  but  I  shall  implant  into  each  moment 
a  positive  good." 

Although  Tolstoy  values  this  story  so  little,  and 
was  very  eager  to  be  done  "with  this  tedious 
Anna  Kar^nina,"  it  marks  the  height  of  his 
artistic  power.  It  is  written  with  much  human 
passion,  and  in  the  hands  of  a  man  with  lower 
moral  ideals  and  less  artistic  skill  it  might  have 
proved  dangerous  material.  It  is  realistic  to  the 
core,  because  Russian  society  is  realistic ;  it  has  not 
a  trace  of  Anglo-Saxon  prudery,  but  calls  a  spade 
a  spade,  and  does  not  blush  at  it  or  stumble  over 
it.  Tolstoy's  realism  differs  from  its  Russian 
namesake,  imported  from  France,  in  being  blunt, 

193 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

plain-spoken,  and  unscented.  Sin  may  be  plea- 
sant, but  it  is  never  beautiful  or  harmless ;  and 
any  one  who  reads  the  motto  which  he  has  writ- 
ten over  this  novel,  "Vengeance  is  mine,  saith 
the  Lord,"  anS  who  understands  his  plain  speech, 
must  know  that  his  realism  is  as  vital  as  that  of 
the  prophets  and  seers,  and  that  it  is  not  the 
literary  form  of  decadence.  He  began  the  story 
already  knowing  the  end.  From  the  moment 
when  Anna  and  Vronsky  meet  each  other  with 
an  impure  thought  which  becomes  uncontrol- 
lable, the  reader  knows  what  the  end  will  be. 
No  matter  where  they  are  or  what  they  do, 
whether  they  meet  in  secret  or  openly,  whether 
they  go  to  Italy  to  study  art  or  return  to  Russia 
to  improve  an  estate,  whether  they  eat  or  drink, 
ride  or  dance,  the  shadow  never  leaves  them,  and 
vengeance  is  expected;  nor  does  it  delay  its 
coming.  Only  a  very  perverted  or  immature  mind 
can  find  in  any  of  Tolstoy's  stories  the  slightest 
encouragement  to  commit  sin. 

While  "Anna  Kar^nina"  was  written  with 
much  physical  vigor,  and  practically  at  the  prime 
of  Tolstoy's  manhood,  it  was  written  with  the 
greatest  moral  passion.  He  was  beginning  a  new 

194 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

career  and  seeking  a  new  purpose  for  his  life. 
The  faith  in  God  which  in  the  story  is  still  inde- 
finite, was  ripening  into  God-knowledge ;  and  his 
search  after  some  solution  of  the  pressing  pro- 
blems was  being  rewarded  by  his  finding  it  in  the 
Gospel  of  Jesus,  whose  apostle  he  was  to  be, 
whose  life  he  was  to  try  to  live,  and  whose  pre- 
cepts he  was  to  teach.  "Anna  Karenina"  was 
written  at  this  strategic  juncture ;  and  it  marks 
the  parting  of  the  ways  and  the  beginning  of 
the  new  life.  A  story  written  in  such  an  atmo- 
sphere, and  which  has  behind  it  such  moral 
struggles,  cannot  be,  and  is  not  in  the  least, 
impure.  There  are  portions  of  it  in  which  we 
should  like  to  soften  the  realism,  and  from  which 
we  should  be  glad  to  expurgate  the  seemingly 
unnecessary  details  of  which  the  Anglo-Saxon 
does  not  speak  in  public  ;  but  Tolstoy  could  not 
always  stop  to  clothe  naked  Russian  truth  in 
English  tailor-made  words,  and  we  shall  have  to 
read  him  in  unexpurgated  editions  or  not  read 
him  at  all.  His  characters,  of  which  many  crowd 
the  small  canvas,  are  clear,  plain,  living,  every- 
day creatures ;  but  always  types  of  social  and  cul- 
tural development.  None  of  them  is  put  there 

195 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

without  a  purpose,  whether  he  says  or  does  much 
or  little.  Each  one  is  a  symbol  of  something  good 
or  evil,  something  to  be  chosen  or  avoided.  Tol- 
stoy's narrative  is  as  simple  as  his  plot.  He  never 
stops  to  analyze  character,  but  he  describes  in  the 
simplest  way  the  life  of  a  man,  never  forgetting 
the  slightest  details.  He  does  this  with  such 
frankness  and  acuteness  that  the  character  is  re- 
vealed from  the  first  moment,  and  one  is  never  in 
doubt  "whether  it  is  good,  or  whether  it  is  evil." 
As  in  "Anna  Karenina,"  so  in  nearly  every  one 
of  his  novels,  there  are  really  two  stories :  the  one 
taken  from  the  life  around  him,  full  of  varied 
human  interests,  never  commonplace,  always 
highly  dramatic,  but  not  theatrical,  and  full  of 
poetry  which  is  seldom  sweet  but  always  rugged ; 
a  story  which  is  fiction  based  upon  the  experi- 
ence of  others.  The  other  one  has  all  through  hi3 
works  the  same  hero,  sometimes  under  one  name, 
sometimes  under  another ;  it  tells  little  of  ex- 
ternal things,  but  much  of  that  which  happens 
within  the  soul.  It  is  philosophic  and  didactic 
rather  than  dramatic  and  poetical,  and  is  not 
fiction  but  history, — the  history  of  Tolstoy.  He 
does  this,  not  because  he  feels  himself  so  impor- 

196 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

tant,  but  because  he  desires  to  know  of  what  value 
he  is  to  the  world,  among  those  others  with  whom 
he  lives.  He  knows  himself  better  than  any  one 
else  knows  him.  His  self -analysis  is  keen,  open, 
and  often  seemingly  unjust ;  but  unjust  only  be- 
cause we  are  not  used  to  dealing  so  honestly  with 
ourselves,  and  because  perfectly  honest  biogra- 
phies are  rare  outside  of  the  Bible.  As  an  artist 
he  wrote  what  he  saw  in  others,  and  what  he 
experienced  through  them  in  mind  and  heart ; 
as  a  judge,  physician,  philosopher,  and  preacher, 
he  wrote  what  he  saw  in  himself  from  his  earliest 
youth ;  and  as  he  hid  nothing  from  himself  so  he 
hid  nothing  from  the  public,  which  was  to  him 
not  an  audience  but  a  judgment  hall.  So,  more 
and  more,  the  artist  gave  place  to  the  soul  bio- 
grapher ;  much  to  the  chagrin  of  the  critics  and 
perhaps  of  the  reading  public  in  general,  which 
always  cared  more  for  the  story-teller  than  for 
the  prophet  and  seer. 


197 


CHAPTER  XIII 

TOLSTOY'S  CONFESSION  AND  CONVERSION 

In  January,  1881,  Countess  Tolstoy  wrote  to  her 
brother:  "You  would  not  know  Leo,  he  is  so 
changed ;  he  has  become  a  Christian  and  he  re- 
mains one,  so  steadfast  and  true."  Back  of  this 
simple  statement  of  Tolstoy's  conversion,  for 
such  it  must  be  called,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
the  word  has  become  commonplace  and  almost 
meaningless  in  Protestant  America,  —  back  of' 
this  conversion  lie  long  years  of  conflict  such  as 
few  souls  have  experienced.  It  was  a  con- 
flict of  spirit  which  became  so  painful  that  it 
drew  the  body  into  its  comradeship  of  suffering, 
and  the  whole  man  was  undone.  Had  Tolstoy 
been  less  rationalistic,  or  had  he  been  bom  in  a 
climate  where  the  sun  bums  poetry  into  each 
human  thought,  he  would  have  described  the 
birth  of  his  soul  as  a  miracle,  which  might  have 
found  a  place  in  the  traditions  of  the  church  and 
eamed  him  a  "  handle  "  for  his  name  and  a  halo 

198 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

for  his  head.  By  his  keen,  plain,  truthful  speech, 
he  reveals  to  us  the  whole  inner  process,  yet 
without  making  it  less  a  miracle,  if  that  may  be 
defined  as  something  which  lies  out  of  the  ordi- 
nary human  experience,  and  which  cannot  be 
apprehended  by  the  senses.  It  is  true  that  dur- 
ing Tolstoy's  whole  life  he  had  struggles  with 
himself  and  his  surroundings ;  but  they  came  at 
long  intervals,  and  served  in  no  small  measure  to 
stimulate  his  artistic  faculty,  although  they  left 
bim  spiritually  just  where  he  was  before.  Mos- 
cow society  accepted  his  moralizing  under  the 
cover  of  fiction,  just  as  it  accepts  the  fiction 
which  has  no  cover  and  no  morals.  In  spite  of  his 
love  for  the  peasants,  his  altruistic  schemes,  and 
his  pedagogic  journal,  he  had  serious  lapses  into 
aristocratic  Russia,  and  Prince  Obolensky  wrote 
in  his  memoirs :  "  Very  often  I  met  Count  Tol- 
stoy at  Peter  Samarine's,  where  there  was  much 
society,  and  where  hunts  and  races  were  organ- 
ized. Tolstoy  was  then  (1870)  not  a  philosopher 
as  now,  but  a  jolly  enthusiastic  sportsman  as  well 
as  a  splendid  conversationalist,  and  his  quarrels 
were  always  interesting." 
The  happiness  which  Tolstoy  found  in  his 
199 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

marriage  did  not  give  him  that  hold  upon  life 
nor  the  self-control  that  he  expected  from  it. 
His  passions  were  not  dead,  nor  was  his  thirst 
quenched,  nor  were  his  ambitions  stilled  by  the 
new  life,  although  his  wife  brought  into  it  all 
that  he  could  reasonably  expect.  She  loved  him 
as  passionately  as  he  loved  her,  and  perhaps  less 
fitfully,  after  the  manner  of  women ;  she  looked 
carefully  to  the  ways  of  her  household,  and  was 
indeed  the  ideal  of  LemueFs  mother:  "The 
heart  of  her  husband  doth  safely  trust  in  her, 
so  that  he  shall  have  no  need  of  spoil."  She  was 
economical  because  Tolstoy  never  was,  and  she 
was  ambitious  for  him  because  he  had  ceased  to 
be  so.  He  was  more  or  less  swayed  by  her  per- 
fectly human  and  rational  ideals,  and  in  a  letter 
to  "  Fyett,"  written  in  1873,  he  speaks  of  her 
influence  over  him.  On  the  eve  of  his  greatest 
soul  struggle  he  says :  "  Every  day  for  nearly  a 
whole  week  I  have  been  sitting  for  the  painter 
Kramskai,  who  is  doing  my  portrait  for  the 
Treytiokof  sky  gallery.  I  have  consented  to  do  it 
because  the  artist  himself  came  and  promised  my 
wife  that  as  a  return  for  the  favor  he  would 
paint  one  for  us  cheaper;  and  my  wife  persuaded 

200 


Drawn  by  J .  Repin 

COUNT   LEO  TOLSTOY 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

me."  This  last  phrase  does  sound  as  if  the 
story  of  our  first  parents  were  not  altogether 
fictitious ;  but  it  is  just  possible  that  Tolstoy  was 
not  so  willing  a  victim  as  was  Adam.  He  him- 
self says  of  that  period :  "  The  new  conditions  in 
a  happy  home  life  drew  me  away  entirely  from 
seeking  to  find  the  common  purpose  of  life.  My 
whole  being  was  centered  in  my  wife  and  chil- 
dren, and  for  their  sakes  in  care  for  the  enlarge- 
ment of  my  means  to  carry  on  the  increasing 
household."  He  was  so  happy  that,  "  If  a  good 
fairy  had  come  down  from  some  strange  world 
and  asked  me  if  there  were  anything  I  wished 
for,  I  could  not  have  thought  of  anything  to  ask." 
Fifteen  such  years  passed,  during  which  his 
home,  his  schools,  and  his  new  books  bade  fair  to 
drive  away  those  higher  aspirations  and  silence 
his  questioning  soul ;  yet  the  inner  strife  never 
ceased,  for  it  manifests  itself  in  his  writings  and 
in  his  letters  to  his  friends,  which  sound  much 
more  serious  than  ever.  "  You  are  ill,"  he  writes, 
"  and  think  of  death,  but  I  am  well,  and  must 
constantly  think  of  it."  And  again,  soon  after 
this  :  "  For  the  first  time  you  talk  to  me  of  God 
and  of  divine  things ;  but  I  have  been  thinking 

201 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

of  these  questions  for  a  long  time.  Don't  say 
that  one  cannot  think  about  them ;  one  not  only 
can,  but  one  must.  At  all  times  the  best  men, 
that  is,  the  true  men,  have  thought  about  them, 
and  if  it  can't  be  done  as  you  say,  we  must  find 
some  way  in  which  it  can  be  done.  Have  you 
ever  read  Pascal  ?  " 

A  more  positive  and  definite  evidence  of  a 
coming  change  appears  a  little  later,  when  he 
writes :  "  Although  I  love  you  as  you  are,  I  am  a 
little  displeased  with  you  because  like  Martha^ 
'  You  are  cumbered  with  much  serving '  when 
*  But  one  thing  is  necessary/  The  mere  joy  of 
living  is  too  great  in  you ;  when  some  day  the 
thread  of  life  threatens  to  break,  it  will  go  hard 
with  you.  I  have  no  interest  in  life,  and  nothing 
seems  to  matter."  The  question  of  the  purpose 
of  life,  to  which  he  had  to  cling  whether  he  cared 
to  or  not,  grew  slowly  to  be  the  all-absorbing 
one.  He  says  of  this  time:  "Something  very 
strange  happened  to  me.  I  had  moments  of  great 
doubt,  when  life  itself  seemed  to  come  to  a 
standstill.  I  did  not  know  how  I  should  live  or 
what  I  should  do.  I  lost  my  balance  and  became 
melancholy.  At  first  this  occurred  at  long  inter- 

202 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

vals,  and  I  took  up  old  habits  again ;  then  it 
happened  of tener ;  but  at  the  time  that  I  fin- 
ished writing  'Anna  Karenina'  my  despair  was 
so  great  that  I  could  not  do  anything  but  think 
of  the  dreadful  condition  in  which  I  found  my- 
self." He  sought,  asked,  and  knocked  in  all 
directions,  and  received  no  answer.  "  But  I  must 
know,"  he  writes.  "  Before  I  can  trouble  myself 
about  my  estate  or  my  children  or  the  writing 
of  books,  I  must  know  why  I  do  it.  Before  I 
know  that,  I  can  do  nothing ;  I  cannot  live." 

The  thought  of  self-destruction  came  upon 
him  with  a  strange  force,  and  he  had  to  hide 
everything  which  might  have  suggested  suicide. 
As  the  sight  of  a  rope  roused  in  him  the  desire 
to  end  his  life,  so  the  sight  of  wife  and  children 
made  him  wish  to  cling  to  it.  "  I  tried  with  all 
my  might  to  break  away  from  life,  just  as  for- 
merly I  endeavored  to  make  my  life  better."  All 
this  came  to  him  in  his  prime,  in  the  midst  of 
what  men  call  happiness ;  he  was  a  proud  father, 
the  owner  of  a  large  estate,  and  at  the  zenith  of 
his  literary  career.  He  was  physically  so  strong 
that  he  could  do  a  day's  work  in  the  harvest-field 
without  fatigue  ;  while  mentally  he  felt  himself 

203 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

sound,  and  able  to  stay  eight  or  ten  hours  at 
his  desk.  Yet  he  cared  not  to  exist  unless  he 
knew  the  purpose  of  his  life.  He  turned  from 
science  and  from  modem  culture  with  a  feeling 
of  repulsion ;  for  he  felt  the  inability  of  the  first 
to  solve  the  really  important  problems  of  life, 
and  the  hollowness  and  falseness  of  the  second, 
if  one  were  honest  enough  to  penetrate  its  fine 
veneer.  Like  a  questioning  Job  he  stood  before 
the  awful  something,  uttering  his  complaint,  and 
the  answers  of  Socrates,  Buddha,  and  Schopen- 
hauer were  like  the  stereotyped  phrases  of  Job's 
friends,  who  tried  to  heal  his  hurt  by  common- 
place words.  Not  unlike  King  Solomon,  having 
tasted  of  all  that  the  world  could  give  him,  Tol- 
stoy cries  out :  "  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity." 
"What  profit  hath  a  man  of  all  his  labor  which 
he  taketh  under  the  sun  ?  One  generation  pass- 
eth  away  and  another  generation  cometh,  but 
the  earth  abideth  forever."  He  turned  to  the  men 
and  women  of  his  acquaintance,  studying  them 
carefully  to  see  how  they  looked  upon  this  ques- 
tion which  had  brought  him  to  the  verge  of  de- 
spair, and  he  found  that  they  had  four  ways  out 
of  the  difficulty.  One  was  the  way  of  ignorance. 

204 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

They  did  not  know  that  such  a  question  ever 
penetrated  a  human  brain ;  they  sipped  honey 
until  something  called  their  attention  to  the  bit- 
terness of  death,  and  then  they  suddenly  ceased 
to  sip  honey.  He  could  not  unlearn  what  he  knew, 
and  consequently  could  not  learn  from  the  igno- 
rant. The  second  way  was  that  of  crushing  the 
question  in  the  pleasures  of  life.  "  Eat,  drink, 
and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  thou  shalt  die ; "  or, 
in  the  preacher's  words  which  he  quotes :  "There 
is  nothing  better  for  a  man  than  that  he  should 
eat  and  drink,  and  that  he  should  make  his  soul 
enjoy  good  in  his  labor."  The  wealth  which 
these  people  have,  the  pleasures  in  which  they 
indulge,  bring  about  a  moral  torpor  which  makes 
them  forget  that  there  are  such  things  as  sick- 
ness, age,  or  death.  The  third  way  was  that  of 
suicide ;  ending  life,  when  one  recognizes  that  it 
is  vanity.  This  was  a  way  out  of  the  difficulty 
which  Tolstoy  at  that  time  thought  the  most 
honorable  and  dignified.  The  fourth  way  was  that 
of  weakness;  to  know  that  life  as  one  under- 
stands it  is  vanity,  yet  still  continuing  it,  as  if 
waiting  for  something  better,  which  never  comes, 
and  always  eating,  drinking,  and  writing  books 

205 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

as  he  was  doing.  He  finds  no  answer  among  the 
men  of  his  class,  and  yet,  he  says,  there  are 
millions  and  millions  of  men  who  never  think 
that  their  lives  have  no  purpose,  who  in  contrast 
to  the  restlessness  of  the  ruling  minority  are 
calm  and  quiet,  who  in  spite  of  hardship,  hunger, 
and  cold,  have  a  peace  of  soul  and  a  harmony  of 
spirit  which  those  do  not  possess  who  have 
wealth,  knowledge,  leisure,  and  pleasure.  Where 
do  they  find  the  power  to  live  and  endure  ?  and 
now  Tolstoy  finds  the  answer:  "Faith  is  the 
power  of  their  lives."  Faith  is  the  certainty 
that  human  life  has  a  purpose,  a  certainty 
through  which  these  human  beings  live ;  so  he 
went  about  seeking  it,  and  was  ready  to  accept 
any  faith  which  did  not  ask  for  the  denial  of 
reason  :  "  For  that  would  have  been  a  lie."  He 
studied  Buddhism,  Mohammedanism,  but  above 
all,  Christianity,  its  books  and  its  followers.  This 
study  of  religions  was  not  a  superficial  one ;  it 
was  so  thorough  that  he  knew  not  only  their 
principles,  but  he  caught  also  the  peculiar  flavor 
and  poetry  of  each. 

In  the  study  of  Christianity  he  turned  first  to 
the  people  of  his  own  position  in  society  who 

206 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

were  commonly  called  Christians.  He  talked 
with  priests,  monks,  and  theologians  of  the  or- 
thodox and  liberal  type  ;  but  he  found  that  their 
faith  had  nothing  to  do  with  their  lives ;  that 
it  was  a  thing  wholly  apart,  that  they  clung  to  it 
for  one  cause  or  another,  but  not  for  the  great 
reason  of  finding  an  answer  to  the  question  of 
the  purpose  of  life.  He  also  found  what  he  knew 
before — that  their  lives  were  wholly  at  variance 
with  their  professions.  As  he  found  this  among 
priests  and  laymen  alike,  he  turned  his  attention 
to  the  peasants,  in  whom  he  had  long  suspected 
that  he  would  find  the  real  treasure.  He  stood 
on  the  highway  which  led  past  Yasnaya  Polyana, 
and  talked  to  the  pilgrims  who  went  to  Kieff  or 
to  Jerusalem.  He  talked  to  them  as  few  men  of 
his  station  could  talk ;  he  spoke  to  them  like  a 
brother;  like  a  child  who  was  going  to  school 
to  these  other  children,  the  Russian  peasantry. 
And  they  talked  to  him  as  they  would  not  have 
talked  to  any  other  nobleman.  They  looked  out  of 
their  frank,  open  eyes  into  his,  and  revealed  to 
him  the  secret  of  their  souls,  which  really  was 
no  secret ;  for  they  revealed  it  in  their  lives  and 
looks. 

207 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

These  people  had  what  he  sought — a  life  in 
harmony  with  their  faith.  "  To  them  life  and 
death  are  in  God's  hand,  and  death  is  the  en- 
trance into  life  eternal.  They  do  not  fear  the 
mice  which  gnaw  at  the  root  to  which  they  cling, 
and  when  they  lose  their  hold  they  go  into  the 
depths  without  a  murmur."  Tolstoy  learned  to 
love  and  appreciate  the  peasants  more  and  more, 
and  for  two  years  he  prepared  himself  for  the 
next  step ;  that  of  ceasing  to  live  like  a  parasite 
and  of  giving  his  life  a  meaning,  by  labor  and 
by  faith.  He  began  to  seek  God,  and  realized 
that  he  failed  to  find  him,  not  because  he  was 
not  reasoning  right,  but  because  he  was  living 
wrong.  He  knew  that  there  must  be  a  God, 
although  philosophy  taught  him  that  one  could 
not  prove  his  existence.  He  ardently  prayed  for 
a  vision  of  that  God  whom  he  sought  with  all 
his  heart,  but  there  was  no  answer,  until  one 
day  in  the  spring-time  as  he  was  walking  through 
the  woods  which  surround  his  estate,  and  was 
listening  to  the  music  of  the  awakening  life  in 
the  tree-tops,  this  came  to  him  like  a  revelation : 
"  I  can  live  only  when  I  believe  in  God ;  when  I 
do  not  believe  I  feel  as  if  I  must  die.  What  seek 

208 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

I  further?  Without  him  I  cannot  live.  To  know 
God  and  to  Hve  are  the  same  thing.  God  is  life." 
Something  within  him  seemed  to  say:  "Live 
seeking  God  then,  for  there  is  no  life  without 
him."  "  It  grew  brighter  around  me  and  within 
me,  and  that  light  has  never  left  me." 

Thus  Tolstoy  was  saved  from  despair  and  sui- 
cide ;  and  just  as  gradually  as  the  thought  of 
self-destruction  had  come,  so  now  came  the 
thought  of  life,  to  abide  with  him  forever.  And, 
strange  to  say,  this  new  faith  and  this  power  to 
live  were  really  not  something  new,  but  the 
old  faith  and  the  old  power  which  were  in  him 
when  as  a  child  he  grew  conscious  of  life.  It 
was  only  a  returning  to  the  belief  of  his  child- 
hood —  to  the  belief  that  the  purpose  of  life  was 
to  be  in  harmony  with  the  Divine  Will ;  but  with 
this  difference :  that  formerly  he  had  felt  this 
unconsciously,  while  now  he  knew  that  he  could 
not  live  without  that  trust  in  God.  He  compared 
his  condition  with  that  of  a  boy  who  was  put  into 
a  boat,  he  knew  not  when  or  where.  Some  one 
showed  him  the  direction  of  the  other  shore,  put 
oars  into  his  unskilled  hands,  and  left  him  alone. 
He  rowed  as  best  he  could  row,  and  made  some 

209 


.TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

progress,  but  the  farther  he  went,  the  stronger 
became  the  current,  which  carried  him  far  away 
from  that  other  shore.  Around  him  he  found  in 
increasing  numbers  those  who,  like  him,  were 
being  carried  away  by  the  current.  Some  were 
throwing  away  the  oars  in  despair,  some  strug- 
gled against  the  stream,  others  again,  drifted 
along.  The  farther  he  rowed  the  more  he  forgot 
the  shore  which  had  been  pointed  out  to  him, 
until  at  last  he  let  go  of  the  oars  in  utter  hope- 
lessness. The  jolly  crews  of  surrounding  boats 
assured  him  that  their  way  was  the  only  right 
one  ;  and  he,  believing,  rowed  with  them  until  he 
heard  the  roar  of  the  rapids  and  saw  the  de- 
struction of  their  boats.  Suddenly,  in  his  agony, 
he  remembered  the  other  bank  and  pulled  back 
to  it,  although  the  wind  was  against  him.  "  The 
shore  was  God,  and  the  oars  were  the  liberty 
given  me  to  find  my  way  back  to  the  shore 
and  be  with  God." 

With  all  the  zeal  of  a  convert  who  finds  the 
truth  late  in  life,  he  turns  to  the  Church,  prays 
devoutly,  fasts  as  often  as  is  decreed,  goes  to 
confession,  and  takes  Holy  Communion.  But 
soon  new  doubts  creep  in,  and  as  might  have 

210 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

been  foreseen,  his  questioning  mind  cannot  be 
silenced,  and,  "Why  do  I  do  this?''  and,  "Why 
do  I  do  that  ? "  he  hears  ringing  in  his  ears  at 
every  service  which  he  attends.  The  forms,  which 
in  the  Greek  Church  are  so  numerous  and  so  seem- 
ingly stupid,  repel  him  because  they  have  no  vital 
connection  with  life,  and  the  oft-recurring  holy- 
days  have  no  meaning.  They  celebrated  things 
which  he  could  not  believe ;  another  matter  which 
made  him  stumble  was,  that  the  Church  was 
then  praying  for  the  victory  of  the  Russian  army 
over  the  Turks.  He  asked  himself  :  "  How  can 
one  do  that  when  Christ  says,  'Love  your 
enemies  '  ?  "  Again  he  thought  of  those  words, 
when  Alexander  HL  ascended  the  throne  with 
vengeance  in  his  heart  against  his  father's 
murderers.  Tolstoy  interceded  for  them  in  the 
name  of  Christ ;  nevertheless  they  were  executed, 
and  their  death  was  approved  by  the  Church 
and  its  priests.  New  doubts  arose  as  he  came  to 
study  Church  history.  So  many  churches,  so 
many  claims  to  infallibility ;  and  how  difficult  it 
was  to  say  which  was  right  and  which  was  wrong. 
He  said  :  "  All  of  them  contain  truth  and  false- 
hood, but  I  must  find  the  truth."   He  searches 

211 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

the  Scriptures,  in  which  all  profess  to  believe,  he 
studies  them  ardently ;  and  like  Luther  he  finds 
the  truth  in  the  Gospels,  which  he  recognizes 
as  the  source  of  all  life.  As  he  studies  these 
Gospels,  a  new  vista  opens  before  him,  and  he 
sees  the  Kingdom  of  God,  which  is  so  different 
from  the  kingdoms  of  this  world,  political  and 
ecclesiastical. 

The  call  into  this  Kingdom,  which  comes  to  him 
unmistakably  and  clearly,  he  immediately  obeys. 
Like  the  disciples  who  "left  their  nets  and 
followed  him,"  he  was  ready  to  leave  everything 
he  possessed  —  more  valuable  indeed  than  fish- 
nets and  boats.  To  him,  to  know  means  to  obey ; 
to  believe  means  to  live ;  and  obediently  he  con- 
forms to  the  teachings  of  Jesus  as  he  interprets 
them.  His  money  he  will  give  to  the  poor,  his 
life  is  to  be  the  simplest,  his  bread  is  to  be 
earned  by  the  sweat  of  his  face ;  and  if  the  art 
which  he  forsakes  again  presses  the  pen  into  his 
hand,  it  shall  be  consecrated  to  the  preaching  of 
that  truth  which  put  meaning  and  value  into 
the  life  which  was  so  meaningless  and  valueless 
that  he  was  ready  to  throw  it  away. 


212 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  LIFE  AS  AN  INFLUENCE 

The  story  of  Tolstoy's  conversion  was  carried 
into  all  corners  of  the  earth  and  into  strata  of 
society  which  had  never  known  of  him  as  an 
author,  or  realized  the  moral  import  of  his 
stories.  It  seemed  that  the  world  had  been 
waiting  for  a  man  who  would  not  only  interpret 
the  Gospel  rationally,  but  live  it  radically ;  and 
Yasnaya  Polyana  at  once  became  a  new  holy 
shrine  to  which  pilgrims  from  afar  came  by  the 
hundreds.  Letters  poured  in  upon  Tolstoy  in  such 
numbers  that  it  was  found  possible  to  answer  only 
comparatively  few.  Many  of  those  who  crowded 
around  him  at  that  time  came  because,  like  him, 
they  had  puzzled  over  the  great  question  of  life, 
and  desired  to  hear  from  his  own  lips  how  it 
was  answered.  Others,  burdened  by  their  sins, 
came  to  repent,  and  others  again  came  with 
strange  heartaches  to  find  here  their  relief. 
Many  of  those  who  went  to  him  found,  after 

213 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

doing  farm  labor  for  a  few  days,  that  sore 
muscles  would  not  heal  sore  hearts,  and  that 
carrying  water  from  the  pond  did  not  lift  bur- 
dens from  the  conscience.  So  they  returned  to 
the  world  which  they  had  left,  with  mixed  feel- 
ings toward  the  physician  whom  they  could  not 
help  admiring,  but  whose  medicine  they  found 
too  strong. 

A  very  small  but  important  minority  remained 
to  labor,  and  after  leaving  Tolstoy,  took  up  life 
even  more  severely  than  he  was  living  it.  Among 
them  were  Prince  Chilykoff,  who  sacrificed  his 
millions,  Vladimir  Tshertkoff  and  Paul  Biryu- 
koff,  who  are  living  in  exile  on  account  of  their 
avowed  Tolstoyan  tendencies,  and  who  in  Geneva 
and  London  are  publishing  Russian  newspa- 
pers, whose  spirit  is  in  harmony  with  the  teach- 
ing of  their  master.  Beside  these  there  were 
numbers  of  the  nameless  ones  who  were  "  desti- 
tute, afflicted,  tormented,  and  of  whom  the  world 
was  not  worthy."  Most  interesting  is  the  fact 
that,  like  a  new  Messiah,  he  drew  to  himself  a 
large  number  of  thinking  Jews,  some  of  whom 
organized  communities  according  to  his  prin- 
ciples. One  of  these  is  that  of  Mr.  Femerman 

214 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

and  Mr.  Butkyevitch,  in  the  district  of  Cherson, 
in  southern  Russia.  Others,  emulating  Tolstoy's 
example,  forsook  their  bartering  to  begin  tilling 
the  soil ;  and  the  best  Jewish  colony  in  Palestine 
was  recruited  from  Jewish  university  students 
of  Odessa  and  Moscow,  who  were  "  Tolstoy  mad," 
as  they  expressed  it.  The  Jews  came  to  Yas- 
naya  in  goodly  numbers  to  see  a  man  who  was 
really  living  the  Christian  life,  not  merely 
preaching  it ;  and  under  the  influence  of  that  life 
they  accepted  the  Christian  faith.  At  first  Tol- 
stoy encouraged  the  baptizing  of  one  or  two  of 
them  into  the  Greek  Church ;  but  he  always 
expresses  himself  as  regretting  this  act  If  he 
had  had  Jewish  blood  in  his  veins,  he  would  have 
found  it  difficult  to  prevent  his  being  declared  the 
Jewish  Messiah.  As  it  is,  he  has  been  the  first 
Russian  who  has  interpreted  Christianity  to  the 
Jew  in  terms  which  he  could  accept,  and  in  a 
form  that  has  nothing  of  the  idolatry  of  the 
Greek  Church,  which  is  the  greatest  barrier  to 
the  Jew's  acceptance  of  the  Christian  religion. 
Tolstoy  was  besieged  by  over-anxious  mothers, 
who  accused  him  of  bringing  pressure  to  bear 
upon  their  sons,  who  had  developed  the  "  Tolstoy 

215 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

disease  " ;  and  he  and  all  his  followers  were  con- 
sidered ripe  for  the  lunatic  asylum.  It  even  hap- 
pened that  in  some  instances  men  who  returned 
to  their  estates,  to  live  according  to  Tolstoy's 
teachings,  were  declared  insane,  while  others 
were  sent  to  prison  and  into  exile.  But  Tolstoy 
was  neither  the  organizer  of  a  movement  nor  a 
zealous  propagandist.  He  did  not  care  whether 
he  had  followers  or  not ;  and  when  men  and  women 
came  to  worship  him,  he  would  say  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Angel  of  the  Apocalypse,  "  See  thou 
do  it  not,  — worship  God ; "  and  when  they  called 
him  Master,  he  said :  "  One  is  your  Master,  even 
Christ."  When  they  called  him  Teacher,  he 
answered :  "  Call  no  man  Rabbi."  He  did  preach 
to  every  man  who  came ;  if  he  were  rich  he  took 
him  into  the  woods  and  looked  into  his  soul  with 
his  piercing  but  kindly  eyes,  saying  repeatedly 
and  insistently  :  "  Sell  all  thou  hast  and  give  to 
the  poor."  When  the  mighty  and  strong  came 
and  asked  what  to  do  to  be  saved,  he  would 
tell  them :  "  Thou  shalt  not  kill."  When  the  spir- 
itually blind  came  he  repeated  Christ's  words : 
"  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see 
God." 

216 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

To  the  Socialists,  with  their  grievances  and 
schemes,  Tolstoy  said :  "For  man  shall  not  live 
by  bread  alone."  He  was  indeed  a  "Gospel 
Preacher,"  so  narrow  that  he  saw  salvation  in 
nothing  but  in  the  teachings  of  Jesus,  and  so 
broad  that  he  saw  salvation  for  all  who  followed 
the  Christ,  no  matter  to  what  church  they  be- 
longed, or  whether  they  belonged  to  any.  While 
he  did  not  shrink  from  accepting  the  conse- 
quences of  his  teachings  for  himself,  he  did  not 
force  others  to  do  so,  and  to  a  friend  who  found 
it  difficult  to  part  from  his  land  he  writes  thus : 
"Do  not  mind  what  the  world  will  say  about 
your  retaining  your  property ;  it  is  a  question 
which  concerns  you  alone ;  and  if  your  conscience 
does  not  condemn  you,  do  just  as  you  have 
planned." 

In  his  family  circle  he  was  tolerant,  allowing 
each  member  of  it  the  fullest  liberty.  Only  two 
of  his  children  believed  as  he  believed,  but  after 
a  while  they  also,  like  so  many  others,  found  the 
path  too  rugged,  and  "thenceforth  they  walked 
no  more  with  him."  Strangers  came  and  offered 
him  their  wealth  and  their  services,  but  he  al- 
ways warned  them  against  too  hasty  action,  and 

217 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

never  accepted  their  money,  while  more  than 
once  he  sent  men  back  into  their  former  callings. 
He  could  also  quickly  detect  the  motive  which 
brought  men  to  him,  and  would  startle  them  by 
his  keen  perception.  When  a  man  came  bur- 
dened by  a  great  sorrow,  and  offered  himself  for 
some  service  without  having  consciously  revealed 
the  cause  of  his  coming,  Tolstoy  said  to  him: 
"  Go  home,  and  after  your  great  sorrow  has  spent 
itself,  come  again."  A  young  Russian  teacher, 
repelled  by  his  vocation  and  inspired  by  Tolstoy 
ideals,  came  to  him,  and  he  generously  said :  "  Go 
back  to  your  desk,  you  are  doing  more  good  than 
I  am."  Every  one  who  came,  he  received  gra- 
ciously, and  although  his  time  was  more  than 
fully  occupied,  he  gave  of  it  unstintingly  to  all 
who  asked  for  it. 

The  writer  of  this  volume  remembers  his  first 
pilgrimage  to  him,  as  a  young,  enthusiastic  stu- 
dent, who  had  suffered  spiritual  shipwreck,  and 
saw  in  Tolstoy  the  refuge  and  the  harbor.  He 
will  never  forget  how  this  man,  who  himself 
had  struggled  through,  listened  to  the  unripe 
thoughts  of  a  boy  who  could  scarcely  express  him- 
self —  one  who,  when  he  began  to  speak,  hardly 

218 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

knew  just  why  he  had  come  there.  In  common 
with  others,  he  felt  the  magic  of  that  personality 
which  loosened  the  emotions ;  but  which  held  one's 
tongue  the  tighter.  No  priest  ever  received  more 
honest  confession  than  Tolstoy  received ;  for  lying 
in  his  presence  was  an  impossibility.  Many  men 
after  a  first  conversation  have  come  back  and  said : 
"  I  am  sorry,  but  I  have  not  told  the  whole  truth." 
Some  people  have  been  repelled  by  him,  but  they 
were  those  who  went  to  him  as  they  might  have 
gone  to  the  Pyramids,  the  battlefield  of  Waterloo, 
or  to  some  wonderful  freak  museum.  Rude  he 
never  was,  although  many  a  time  his  visitors 
were  as  inconsiderate  of  him  as  they  are  of  his- 
toric places ;  and  only  his  being  very  much  alive 
saved  him  from  being  carried  away  bodily  by 
relic  hunters. 

It  is  true  that  in  Yasnaya  Polyana  the  curious 
had  much  to  see  which  seemed  not  a  little  queer 
to  them.  Here  was  a  man  steeped  in  the  culture 
of  his  time,  wealthy  and  highly  talented,  yet  wear- 
ing a  peasant's  coat  and  doing  a  peasant's  work. 
They  laughed  not  a  little  when  they  caught  a 
glimpse  of  this  intellectual  giant  mending  his 
shoes,  when,  as  they  argued,  he  might  have  made 

219 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

much  money,  or  created  some  work  of  art  with 
those  fingers  which  drew  the  waxed  thread  so 
unskillf  ully  through  an  old  shoe  which  was  not 
worth  the  mending.  They  did  not  reaUze  that 
this  laborer  Count,  this  shoemaker  author,  was 
trying  to  mend  a  rent  in  human  society  as  well 
as  the  rent  in  his  shoes.  From  afar  they  watched 
him,  as  by  a  mighty  effort  he  followed  his  pea- 
sants, cutting  rye  and  oats,  "  eating  his  bread  in 
the  sweat  of  his  face "  under  the  trees  which 
edge  the  village  fields ;  and  they  said :  "  What 
a  foolish  thing  for  a  man  to  do,  —  a  man  who 
might  grace  any  society  by  his  presence,  enhance 
its  pleasure  by  his  conversation,  or  infiuence  men 
by  his  thoughts."  They  little  realized  that  this 
man  was  cutting  a  swath  like  that  of  the  giant 
reaper  of  whom  the  peasants  tell ;  who  leveled 
forests  by  one  sweep  of  his  mighty  scythe.  Tol- 
stoy was  followed  by  other  reapers,  and  will  still 
be  followed  in  those  fields  ripe  for  the  harvest. 
Each  autumn  will  bring  men  nearer  to  the  golden 
days  of  the  Kingdom  of  God.  He  was  himself 
unconscious  of  the  power  of  his  example,  nor  did 
he  realize  the  oddity  of  his  position.  He  was  not 
"  playing  to  the  galleries,"  to  use  the  phrase  of 

220 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

the  street ;  he  was  not  playing  at  all ;  he  was 
simply  living  his  faith  with  an  unconscious 
intensity.  His  rugged  face,  with  its  mixture  of 
peasant  and  noble,  received  a  new  and  strange  ex- 
pression. Its  strength  became  suffused  by  tender- 
ness, and  none  could  look  into  that  countenance 
without  being  conscious  not  only  of  the  man's  san- 
ity but  also  of  his  sanctity.  Seeing  him,  one  lost 
all  thought  of  the  strangeness  of  his  position ; 
for  everything  blended  with  his  nature  harmoni- 
ously. It  was  the  harmony  which  follows  a  great 
struggle ;  it  was  not  stagnation,  for  the  man  was 
still  full  of  vital  thoughts,  and  the  strength  of 
his  body,  mind,  and  soul  seemed  inexhaustible, 
making  one  feel  the  influence  of  that  power. 

If  the  crowds  which  gathered  in  Yasnaya 
Polyana  had  been  asked,  "What  went  ye  out  for 
to  see?"  or,  "What  have  ye  seen?"  they  could 
have  given  no  intelligent  answer.  They  saw  a 
man  who,  like  the  Baptist,  was  not  clothed  in 
soft  raiment,  yet  in  those  earlier  days  one  could 
scarcely  escape  the  thought  that  the  peasant's 
garb  which  he  wore  was  very  becoming,  and  that 
he  knew  it.  He  was  homely,  like  the  heroes  of 
all  his  stories ;  the  face  was  angular,  the  features 

221 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

were  unmodeled  and  sharp,  but  the  whole  gave 
the  impression  of  great  force.  He  was  a  piece  of 
original  material  in  which  all  the  possibilities 
of  human  nature  lodged  in  their  fullness.  One 
realized  that  he  could  have  been  as  cold  and  cruel 
as  Napoleon,  or  as  warm  and  kindly  as  Abraham 
Lincoln ;  and  that  in  him  dwelt  the  spirit  of  the 
finest  aristocrat  beside  that  of  the  commonest 
mujik.  The  spirits  of  war  and  of  self-sacrifice,  of 
lust  and  of  the  highest  purity,  of  deceit  and  of  the 
greatest  truthfulness,  of  extremest  pride  and  of 
lowliest  humility,  mingled  in  him,  and  have  made 
his  heart  their  battle-ground.  One  had  the  im- 
pression that  although  one  had  seen  faces  which 
resembled  his  among  Russian  aristocrats  and 
peasants,  one  had  never  met  just  such  a  man. 
He  was  a  composite  photograph  of  Russian  so- 
ciety, in  which  his  own  self  came  to  the  fullest 
expression.  Just  as  Russian  society  lacked  the 
middle  class,  so  the  feeling  for  that  class  seemed 
in  him  to  be  utterly  lacking.  The  physician,  the 
mechanic,  the  lawyer,  the  merchant,  and  all  the 
other  products  of  modern  development  found  in 
him  no  sympathizer,  and  little  by  little  dropped 
out  of  the  list  of  his  visitors. 

222 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Those  who  came  were  divided  by  the  Tolstoy 
family  into  three  classes.  The  first  class  was 
small;  composed  of  those  who,  like  Prince  Chilyoff, 
Tshertkoff,  and  Biryukoff,  were  Tolstoyans  in 
thought  and  action.  It  is  doubtful  that  of  this 
class  one  could  count  more  than  the  apostolic 
number,  of  which  a  few  were  women ;  notably 
among  them  one  with  a  very  uncommon  name  in 
Russia, — Mrs.  Smith,  who  lives  close  to  Yasnaya 
Polyana,  in  an  exalted  poverty,  echoing  every 
thought  of  Tolstoy ;  herself  the  personification 
of  simple-minded  goodness.  Among  the  un- 
known, one  would  have  to  name  Mr.  Nyikitoff 
in  Moscow,  who  not  only  stepped  from  wealth 
into  poverty,  but  who  also  drew  the  members  of 
his  family  into  his  condition,  not  without  dire 
consequences  to  them.  One  of  the  sons,  upon 
being  deprived  of  his  money,  shot  himself,  and 
the  remainder  of  the  household  became  estranged 
from  its  head,  who  is  living  in  one  room  in  ex- 
tremest  poverty,  yet  feels  rich  in  the  conscious- 
ness that  he  is  obeying  the  law  of  Jesus.  He  is 
one  of  the  most  perfect  examples  of  the  thor- 
ough Tolstoyan,  outranking  his  master  in  many 
respects.  Among  these  might  be  counted  a  num- 

223 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

ber  of  men  who  were  Tolstoyans  before  Tolstoy ; 
leaders  in  the  numerous  sects  in  which  Russia 
abounds,  and  who  not  only  learned  from  Tolstoy, 
but  also  left  some  valuable  lessons  behind  them. 
They  were  welcome  visitors,  and  Tolstoy's  indebt- 
edness to  such  men  as  Sutayeff ,  an  uneducated 
peasant,  and  Bondareff,  a  Siberian  exile  of  the 
same  class,  cannot  be  definitely  estimated.  There 
were  also  numbers  of  men  who,  by  the  reading 
of  the  New  Testament,  had  come  to  strange 
thoughts,  which  led  them  away  from  the 
Church,  and  who,  hearing  of  Tolstoy,  clung  to 
him  as  the  expression  of  their  unexpressed  ideas, 
henceforth  enrolling  themselves  among  his 
disciples.  There  are  not  a  few  of  these  among 
Moscow's  wealthy  merchants;  and  Tolstoy's 
friends  always  find  his  name  an  "  Open  sesame  " 
to  their  homes  and  their  life's  story.  Among 
these  are  such  men  as  Petrovitsch,  Vulganoff, 
and  Dunayeff,  well-known  bankers,  all  of  them 
splendid  examples  of  a  Christian  manhood  which 
is  as  rare  as  it  is  beautiful.  To  the  second  class 
belong  the  many  who  came,  saw,  and  heard,  and 
returned  to  their  homes  with  a  new  influence  in 
their  lives  but  unable  to  sever  themselves  from 

224 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

the  wealth  and  culture  they  possessed,  or  the 
society  in  which  they  moved.  Among  this  class 
must  be  named  all  the  painters  and  sculptors  for 
whom  he  sat,  and  who  could  not  loose  themselves 
from  the  wholesome  spell  which  he  cast  over 
them.  Of  these  Ilya  Repin,  Ossip  Pasternak,  and 
Prince  Trubezkoy  are  the  best  examples.  Their 
homes  and  their  lives  are  permeated  by  his  spirit, 
their  art  is  influenced  by  his  teachings,  and  they 
are  the  disciples  "who  walk  afar  off."  America 
enrolls  among  this  class  Ernest  Howard  Crosby, 
one  of  the  best  loved  visitors  to  the  Tolstoy  home. 
His  worth  can  be  best  estimated  by  the  fact  that 
he  has  been  able  to  cast  a  halo  over  many  other 
American  tourists  who  came,  who  were  hard  to 
get  rid  of,  who  had  much  money,  much  tactless- 
ness, and  that  perseverance  which  is  not  the 
"  perseverance  of  the  saints."  Jane  Addams,  of 
the  Hull  House  in  Chicago,  the  best  type  of  Amer- 
ican womanhood  that  ever  stepped  into  the  Tol- 
stoy home,  came,  carrying  with  her  the  fragrance 
of  her  devoted  life.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that 
Tolstoy  was  then  on  the  verge  of  a  long  illness, 
and  not  in  the  best  spirits,  she  had  that  delicate 
perception  which  saw  the  genuine  man  and  his 

225 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

great  and  struggling  soul.  She  was  only  a  few 
hours  in  Yasnaya  Polyana,  and  her  name  may 
have  been  lost  in  the  long  list  of  those  who  came 
from  all  the  comers  of  the  earth,  and  who  re- 
turned blest,  and  henceforth  to  be  a  blessing.  Of 
these  no  record  has  been  kept ;  but  after  all  they 
may  have  been  the  best  mediums  for  the  spread- 
ing of  Tolstoy's  ideals  and  the  multiplying  of  the 
divine  life  upon  the  earth. 

To  the  third  class  are  consigned  all  those  who 
place  Tolstoy  among  the  "  things  "  which  must 
be  "  done  while  one  is  in  Europe ; "  the  news- 
paper reporters  who  magnified  themselves  and 
their  subject,  and  who  searched  for  queerer 
things  than  they  found;  the  men  and  women 
who  called  themselves  "saviors  of  society,"  the 
apostles  of  new  dispensations  who  came  to  con- 
vert Tolstoy  to  every  possible  and  impossible 
faith,  and  who  returned  disappointed  because, 
while  they  found  him  non-resistant,  he  was  not 
non-committal.  All  were  welcomed,  some  more 
cordially  than  others.  Those  who  needed  help, 
and  for  whom  help  was  good,  received  it ;  and 
most  of  them  went  away  with  the  feeling  "  that 
it  was  good  for  us  to  have  been  here,"  although 

226 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

many  mocked  and  ridiculed  what  they  could  not 
understand. 

The  one  element  which  more  or  less  mars  the 
great  impression  one  receives  is  the  fact  that 
there  are  two  worlds  in  one  household,  and  that 
the  world  in  which  Tolstoy  lives  is  invaded  at 
every  step,  making  it  incomplete.  His  plain  rooms 
are  joined  by  those  of  his  family,  almost  luxuri- 
ously furnished ;  the  frugal  kasha  (gruel)  which 
he  eats  is  surrounded  by  omelettes  and  porter- 
house steaks ;  and  this  man  who  desires  to  be  like 
one  of  the  commonest  peasants  sits  at  a  table 
served  by  white-gloved  lackeys.  He  is  poor,  it  is 
true  ;  he  has  no  money  in  his  pockets,  but  his  sons 
have  it.  They  married  rich  wives  and  enjoy  "  an 
abundance  of  the  things  which  men  possess." 
He  does  not  accept  money  for  his  writings,  he 
throws  them  out  into  the  world;  but  his  wife 
gathers  them  up,  until  the  income  from  them 
reaches  into  the  tens  of  thousands. 

Tolstoy  cannot  be  blamed ;  for  he  had  no  right 
to  force  his  family  to  live  as  he  lived ;  nor  can 
one  blame  Countess  Tolstoy,  upon  whom  the 
burden  of  the  family  rested,  who  was  eager  to 
clothe  and  educate  her  children  according  to  their 

227 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

station  in  life,  and  who  with  much  labor  succeeded 
in  doing  so.  The  matter  did  not  pass  into  this 
stage  without  a  severe  struggle,  and  that  she 
was  the  victor  in  it  need  not  prove  that  it  was 
really  the  woman  through  whose  fault  Paradise 
was  lost.  Yet  every  one  feels  the  presence  of 
these  two  worlds,  —  the  one  reserved,  cautious, 
pleasure-loving ;  the  other  simple,  generous,  full 
of  labor  and  sorrow ;  and  if  any  chance  guests 
were  asked  in  which  world  they  would  rather 
spend  the  remainder  of  their  days,  most  of  them 
would  say :  "  In  the  world  of  labor  and  poverty." 
There  is  a  lesson  in  the  contrast.  One  sees  those 
who  are  of  the  world,  and  close  to  them  him 
who  is  in  their  world  but  not  of  it ;  and  when  one 
goes  away,  he  takes  with  him  the  full  spiritual 
charm  of  that  peace  which  pervades  in  such 
abundant  measure  the  life  of  Tolstoy. 


228 


CHAPTER  XV 

TOLSTOY  IN  THE  HEART  OF  RUSSIA 

In  the  year  1881  Countess  Tolstoy  and  the  chil- 
dren moved  to  Moscow  for  the  winter,  and  Tolstoy 
followed  reluctantly  on  foot.  The  education  of 
the  sons  and  daughters  who  had  outgrown  their 
English  and  German  governesses,  and  the  desire 
for  the  social  life  of  the  metropolis  which  Count- 
ess Tolstoy  wished  her  children  to  enjoy,  over- 
came all  her  husband's  opposition.  They  settled 
in  their  own  home,  which  the  Countess  had  pur- 
chased in  the  most  southeastern  portion  of  the 
city,  far  enough  from  its  center  to  enjoy  the 
winding  Moscow  River  and  the  "  Sparrow  Moun- 
tains," as  the  low  hills  which  stretch  along  its 
shores  are  called.  The  home  was  humble  enough ; 
a  two-story  wooden  house  with  a  garden  and  a 
large  yard.  No  one  would  suspect  it  of  being 
the  abode  of  a  Russian  aristocrat,  unless  it  were 
for  the  air  of  neglect  which  pervades  it,  and 
which  in  Russia  is  the  characteristic  atmosphere 

229 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

of  the  homes  of  the  great  as  well  as  of  those  of 
the  lowly.  Close  to  it  is  the  "  Dyevitsche  Polo  " 
(the  Maiden  Field),  a  popular  resort  of  the  com- 
mon people ;  and  here,  too,  is  the  "  Dyevitsche 
Monastir"  (the  Maiden  Cloister),  one  of  the  most 
interesting  convents  in  Moscow,  which  is  richly 
blessed  by  many  institutions  of  the  same  kind ; 
not  all  of  them  so  historic  or  picturesque  as  this 
one,  which  has  its  name  from  the  fact  that 
during  the  Tartar  domination  of  Russia  it  paid 
tribute  to  the  alien,  not  only  in  gold,  but  also 
in  human  flesh  in  the  shape  of  a  certain  number 
of  virgins. 

Thus,  close  to  the  people  for  whom  Tolstoy 
fought  and  to  a  citadel  of  that  Church  which  he 
opposed,  he  again  lived  the  city's  life,  but  in  a 
far  different  way.  He  who  had  enjoyed  riding 
behind  fiery  horses ;  now  walked  over  the  rough 
pavements  of  Moscow.  One  day,  wearied  by  his 
walk,  he  approached  a  cab-driver,  who,  after 
naming  his  price,  looked  him  over  and  said,  "  Poor 
people  must  cut  their  coat  according  to  their 
cloth,"  and  drove  on  without  his  would-be  pas- 
senger, whom  he  treated  as  he  would  treat  the 
poorest  mujik,  much  to  the  delight  of  Tolstoy. 

230 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

No  one  would  have  recognized  in  him  the  dandy  of 
thirty  years  before ;  and  when  he  walked  through 
the  streets  he  was  lost  among  the  common  people, 
like  whom  he  appeared  and  with  whom  he  loved 
to  mingle.  He  had  no  little  difficulty  in  gaining 
access  to  public  places  which  the  better  class  of 
people  frequented,  and  one  day,  wishing  to  go  to 
the  "  Aristocratic  Club,"  where  one  of  his  plays 
was  being  rehearsed,  he  was  carried  out  bodily 
by  the  irate  porter.  His  life  and  his  feelings 
were  now  so  changed  that  there  was  little  in 
Moscow  which  could  give  him  pleasure,  and  much 
which  brought  him  every  moment  unspeakable 
pain.  Everywhere  he  saw  obtrusive  piety  —  hats 
lifted,  fingers  crossed,  and  knees  bowed  before 
countless  images  —  but  nowhere  the  brotherly 
spirit,  the  humble  service,  the  Christ  life  in  its 
simplicity  and  power.  On  every  street  corner 
were  churches  and  chapels  with  gilded  or  gayly 
painted  towers,  making  the  city  look  as  if  it  had 
floated  down  from  the  mystic  skies  of  the  "  Ara- 
bian Nights."  The  walls  of  these  churches  were 
so  jeweled  and  adorned  that  the  stones  of  one 
outshone  those  of  another,  making  the  rich  deco- 
rations look  commonplace  and  dull ;  yet  all  around 

231 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

them  were  indescribable  poverty,  squalor,  drunk- 
enness, and  brute  force. 

Close  to  the  altars  the  merchandisers  had 
pushed  their  counters  full  of  holy  candles,  holy 
oils,  and  holy  cakes,  which  the  poor  bought  with 
their  hard-earned  money  in  the  hope  of  appeas- 
ing an  angry  deity ;  making  the  Christ  propi- 
tious to  their  needs  or  the  Virgin  their  advocate 
before  her  holy  Son.  Rapidly  and  mechanically, 
although  melodiously  and  sonorously,  gorgeously 
robed  priests  read  prayers  in  an  unknown  tongue, 
and  their  ever-repeated  "  Gospodin  Pomiluyeh," 
"Lord  have  mercy,"  was  the  only  intelligible 
and  true  sentence  which  they  uttered ;  and  in- 
deed they  needed  to  cry  for  mercy.  Superbly 
and  effeminately  gowned  in  silks  and  satins  and 
wrapped  in  expensive  furs,  they  were  driven  to 
the  homes  of  the  wealthy  who  desired  their  in- 
cantations ;  they  ate  themselves  fat,  behind  the 
altar,  and  left  the  people  lean,  before  it.  A  thou- 
sand times  over,  they  sold  the  body  of  Christ 
for  more  or  less  than  thirty  shillings,  and  yet 
"thanked  God  that  they  were  not  like  other  men ;" 
especially  not  like  the  poor  mujik  upon  whose 
soul-hunger  they  fed  themselves  while  filling 

232 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

him  with  "  husks  which  the  swine  did  not  eat." 
They  left  the  bhnd  in  their  darkness ;  and  those 
who  desired  to  see,  they  robbed  of  both  power 
and  opportunity  to  do  so.  The  cities  of  which 
for  centuries  they  had  been  the  masters,  they  left 
deep  in  moral  mire ;  and  the  villages,  where  they 
were  both  priest  and  God,  they  did  not  save  from 
physical  and  spiritual  ruin.  "  In  their  teaching 
they  have  lowered  the  idea  of  God  to  a  heathen- 
ish conception  of  him,  and  the  faith  thus  built 
upon  him  is  a  deception  and  a  lie  which  has  defi- 
nite but  low  ends  in  view."  Such  were  the  accu- 
sations which  Tolstoy  hurled  against  the  Church 
and  her  ministers ;  and  it  is  no  small  wonder  that 
he  was  called  the  Antichrist,  and  was  finally  ex- 
communicated and  condemned  as  a  heretic  and 
an  enemy  of  the  Christian  religion. 

The  more  Tolstoy  was  estranged  from  the 
Church  the  more  he  felt  himself  drawn  toward 
some  of  the  sects  which  had  their  beginnings  two 
centuries  ago,  as  a  protest  against  the  radical 
ideas  of  Peter  the  Great,  but  many  of  which  have 
now  become  most  radical.  Their  teachings  are 
crude  and  at  times  immoral ;  ranging  all  the 
way  from  a  pure  and  spiritual  conception  of 

233 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Christianity  to  a  fanatical  deprecation  of  every- 
thing that  is  human,  often  ending  in  the  self-de- 
struction of  the  believers  and  burying  or  burning 
one  another  alive.  The  persecuted  ultra-ortho- 
dox sects  gave  birth  to  new  ones ;  chief  among 
them  the  Bespofzy  or  priestless  communities, 
which  are  gaining  new  converts  rapidly.  The 
most  radical  among  them  are  the  Nemolazi  or  non- 
prayers,  who  have  done  away  with  all  outward 
forms  of  religion  and  pray  to  God  only  in  the 
spirit.  They  interpret  the  Scriptures  in  an  en- 
tirely spiritual  way,  every  fact  and  person  being 
to  them  only  a  symbol  of  some  great  truth.  Thus 
the  Virgin  Mary  represents  purity  of  soul,  bap- 
tism the  cleansing  from  sin,  the  Lord's  Supper 
the  spiritual  feeding  upon  the  word  of  God. 
There  are  sects  which  call  themselves  simply 
Christians,  and  some  out  of  these  see  in  each  in- 
dividual a  reincarnation  of  Christ ;  others  again, 
try  to  live  the  primitive  Christianity  without 
forms  or  dogmas.  They  fast,  chastise  themselves, 
and,  like  the  Shakers,  dance  in  their  religious 
ecstasy.  The  Duchoborz,  or  spirit  wrestlers,  with 
whose  subsequent  history  Tolstoy  is  so  closely 
connected,  are  the  latest  and  most  spiritual  de- 

234 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

velopment  of  this  movement.  Their  teachings 
may  be  briefly  summarized  thus :  God  lives  in 
every  human  soul,  and  because  God  Hves  in  every 
soul,  all  human  beings  are  equal.  Christ  is  born, 
crucified,  and  resurrected  in  every  life.  After 
death  the  soul  of  the  departed  is  reincarnated  in 
another  being,  in  a  new-bom  child.  In  common 
with  many  of  these  sects,  the  Duchoborz  use  no 
alcohol,  tobacco,  or  meat,  and  refuse  the  carrying 
of  arms ;  being  non-resistants.  It  is  on  account 
of  this  last  peculiarity  that  they  have  been  per- 
secuted by  the  Russian  Government,  banished 
to  Siberia,  and  finally  permitted  to  emigrate  to 
Canada.  Crimes  are  practically  unknown  among 
them,  and  their  private  quarrels  are  never  brought 
before  the  court.  They  do  not  acknowledge  any 
government,  and  say:  "Our  conscience  is  our 
czar,  and  our  love  for  one  another  is  our  court, 
our  judgment-hall,  and  our  defense." 

Not  all  these  sects  have  acted  like  leaven; 
but  rather  like  an  acid,  slowly,  very  slowly,  de- 
stroying the  body  of  the  Church  out  of  whose 
bones  they  have  sprung.  Among  the  noblest 
fruits  of  this  sectarianism  is  a  certain  Sutayeflf. 
This  man  was  a  pure  and  simple-minded  pea- 

235 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

sant  who  was  Tolstoy's  guest  for  a  month,  and 
upon  whom  his  history,  which  is  full  of  inter- 
est, was  not  without  its  effect.  Sutayeff  lost  a 
daughter  by  death,  and  the  priest  refused  to 
bury  her  unless  the  full  amount  which  he  de- 
manded, and  which  the  poor  peasant  did  not 
possess,  was  paid.  The  peasant  buried  her  with- 
out the  priest's  blessing  or  assistance,  and  then, 
wishing  to  know  for  himself  the  religion  which 
taught  such  conduct,  he  began  to  learn  to  read 
the  Bible  when  he  was  past  middle  age;  and 
found  not  only  that  the  Gospel  and  the  priest's 
actions  did  not  harmonize,  but  that  the  Church 
did  not  reflect  or  emphasize  its  teachings.  When 
another  child  was  born  to  him,  he  did  not  have 
it  baptized,  because  he  found  nothing  in  the 
Gospel  to  warrant  such  an  act.  The  priest, 
cheated  out  of  his  fee,  came  upon  Sutayeff  with 
curses  and  maledictions,  and  when  the  peasant 
showed  him  the  Gospel,  tore  it  out  of  his  hands 
and  trampled  upon  it  in  his  rage.  This  led 
Sutayeff  to  break  away  completely  from  the 
Church,  to  proclaim  the  truths  he  had  found  in 
the  Gospel,  and,  above  all,  to  live  them.  When 
some  of  his  neighbors  stole  his  grain,  he  ran 

236 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

after  them  with  a  bag  which  they  had  forgot- 
ten ;  "for,"  he  said,  "fellows  who  have  to  steal 
must  be  hard  up."  These  thieves  afterwards 
became  his  most  ardent  disciples.  A  beggar 
woman  to  whom  he  gave  lodging  stole  the  bed- 
ding and  ran  away  with  it.  She  was  pursued 
by  the  neighbors,  and  just  about  to  be  put  into 
prison,  when  Sutayeff  appeared,  became  her 
advocate,  and  gave  her  food  and  money  for  her 
journey. 

Tolstoy  was  an  eye-witness  to  this  occurrence, 
and  it  made  a  deep  impression  upon  him.  Al- 
though Sutayeff ^s  influence  over  him  was  very 
great,  and  their  teachings  were  related,  they  did 
not  borrow  from  each  other;  but  each  found 
independently  of  the  other,  "  the  way,  the  truth, 
and  the  life."  From  this  time  dates  Tolstoy's 
acquaintance  with  the  Duchoborz,  or  spirit  wres- 
tlers, who  represent  the  culmination  of  that  spir- 
itual movement  which  has  been  going  on  among 
the  peasantry  of  Russia,  and  which  in  Tolstoy 
found  a  scientific  interpreter  and  a  noble  cham- 
pion. 

Tolstoy's  influence  upon  the  religious  life  of 
the  Russian  peasants  has  been  limited  by  their 

237 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

illiteracy,  and  not  by  their  unwillingness  or  in- 
capacity to  receive  the  truth  which  he  tried  to 
teach  them.  Wherever  the  stories  for  the  people, 
which  he  was  then  writing,  could  be  read,  they 
could  be  understood ;  for  he  wrote  them  as  if 
he  had  fathomed  the  soul  of  the  peasant,  and  he 
gave  him  the  very  food  he  needed.  The  lan- 
guage is  as  simple  as  that  of  a  child,  the  truth 
it  conveys  as  deep  and  far-reaching  as  that  of 
any  sage,  and  one  would  not  meet  very  much 
opposition  if  one  declared  his  short  peasant  tales 
his  masterpieces.  At  least  they  made  his  name 
famous  among  the  lowly  in  Russia,  and  one  need 
only  pass  through  the  markets  of  Moscow  to 
realize  their  importance.  The  licensed  colpor- 
teurs of  the  Holy  Synod  call  out  their  holy  wares 
in  some  such  alluring  way  as  this  :  "  Come  and 
buy  *  The  story  of  a  woman  who  died,  went  to 
Heaven,  and  returned  again.' "  They  sell  cate- 
chisms which  are  the  essence  of  stupidity,  and 
which  cannot  help  adding  to  the  density  through 
which  the  souls  of  the  poor  are  trying  to  grow 
towards  the  light.  Beside  these  colporteurs  stand 
un-uniformed  and  unlicensed  boys  who  sell  for 
a  penny  the  folk-tales  by  Tolstoy  ;  and  any  one 

238 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

who  has  read  them  must  feel  that  they  will  work 
for  both  the  wholesomeness  and  the  true  holi- 
ness of  their  many  readers.  Those  who  can,  read 
them  to  others ;  and  large  groups  of  men  gather 
round  a  booklet  bought  for  a  kopek,  which  may 
be  called  one  of  the  best  religious  tracts  in  ex- 
istence. In  the  prisons  of  Moscow  one  may  hear 
the  stories  read  and  retold,  and  their  influence 
upon  the  prisoners  is  said  to  be  exceedingly 
wholesome. 

The  clergy  of  Russia  considers  Tolstoy's  in- 
fluence upon  the  religious  life  of  the  people 
extremely  baleful ;  and  from  its  standpoint  it  is 
justified  in  its  belief.  There  are  fewer  people 
to-day,  especially  in  holy  Moscow,  who  crawl  in 
the  dust  before  the  Iberian  Madonna,  and  more 
people  who  see  an  idolatrous  practice  and  a 
shrewd  business  in  the  visits  which  the  picture 
makes  for  so  many  rubles  a  call ;  there  are  fewer 
peasants  making  pilgrimages  to  holy  shrines  and 
neglecting  their  harvests  and  the  care  of  their 
families,  and  more  who  know  the  definition  of 
true  religion.  How  much  this  is  due  to  Tolstoy's 
influence  is  hard  to  tell,  because  a  great  deal  that 
calls  itself  by  his  name  has  never  felt  his  power 

239 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

and  is  not  always  of  his  spirit ;  but  the  following 
incident  is  somewhat  characteristic.  Riding  in 
a  cab  through  the  streets  of  Moscow,  the  writer 
noticed  that  his  driver  did  not  cross  himself  when 
passing  a  church  or  shrine,  and  upon  questioning 
the  man  as  to  why  he  did  not  follow  the  prevail- 
ing custom,  he  replied  very  curtly : "  Tolstoy  says 
we  must  n't."  In  spite  of  almost  general  denial, 
the  priesthood  itself  has  felt  the  influence  of  Tol- 
stoy's teachings,  and,  while  there  are  no  desertions 
from  the  ranks  of  the  Church,  many  priests  have 
learned  from  him  their  real  functions  and  are  try- 
ing to  be  to  their  people  true  shepherds.  In  not  a 
few  villages  there  are  priests  who  are  trying  to 
live  the  Christ  life,  and  the  writer  has  met  some 
of  them  who  acknowledge,  that  while  they  believe 
Tolstoy's  teachings  to  be  full  of  error,  they  have 
been  stimulated  by  them  and  especially  by  his 
life,  and  that  the  Gospels  now  have  a  new  mean- 
ing for  them  and  for  their  people. 

The  Moscow  to  which  Tolstoy  returned  had 
changed  in  many  respects.  In  spite  of  its  tend- 
ency to  look  toward  the  East  and  the  past,  the 
West  had  asserted  itself,  and  brought  much  of 
modem  culture  and  many  modem  problems.  Sur- 

240 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

rounding  the  city  and  beside  the  glittering  domes 
were  huge  smokestacks,  those  breathing-holes  of 
the  industrial  giant  under  whose  sway  the  holy 
city  is  coming  more  and  more.  The  shrill  factory 
whistle  is  still  drowned  by  the  sound  of  the  thou- 
sands of  bells  which  make  the  air  of  Moscow 
vibrant  with  their  metallic  voices;  but  they  were 
being  heard  in  the  pauses  between  those  long 
holidays  which  the  Church  maintains  as  strong 
bulwarks  against  "  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the 
devil,"  and  which  in  reality  make  their  dominion 
greater  and  stronger.  The  peasantry,  which  used 
to  come  its  hundreds  of  miles  to  sell  its  agricul- 
tural products  and  then  return  to  its  mud  huts, 
now  had  homes  in  the  city  where  labor  was  badly 
needed  and  most  miserably  paid.  The  agricultural 
state  was  beginning  to  be  industrial,  and  the  cre- 
ation of  a  new  industrial  class  was  as  natural  as 
it  was  necessary.  The  peasant  was  beginning  to 
lose  his  ignorance  as  well  as  his  simplicity;  and 
although  he  had  more  money  than  ever,  he  had 
greater  needs,  greater  vices,  and  more  galling 
poverty.  Tolstoy  came  in  touch  with  this  new 
class  during  the  taking  of  the  census  in  1885, 
when  he  enrolled  as  one  of  the  voluntary  census- 

241 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

takers.  Faithfully  he  went  from  house  to  house 
and  from  door  to  door,  counting  the  souls  and 
recording  names  and  stations  in  life.  He  has 
never  fully  described  what  he  saw,  underground 
and  overground,  of  pain,  misery,  poverty,  and 
ignorance,  but  it  caused  him,  when  he  was  fifty- 
five  years  of  age,  to  cry  out  for  the  strength  and 
the  inventive  genius  of  youth,  and  to  say:  "  Oh, 
to  invent  a  machine  which  could  lift  the  burden 
from  the  backs  of  the  people !  Let  us  come  to- 
gether and  do  it  now ;  let  us  lift  together  with 
a  long  and  strong  pull."  Impatiently  he  turns 
against  the  science  of  statistics  and  says:  "Let 
us  forget  that  there  are  so-and-so  many  poor  in 
London,  and  let  us  begin  to  work  here  and  now." 
He  had  plans  for  asylums  into  which  should  be 
gathered  the  many  poor  and  homeless  of  Mos- 
cow, but  he  found  it  all  beyond  his  strength.  On 
one  street,  the  "  Rascals'  Market,"  as  it  is  called, 
he  found  no  fewer  than  nine  thousand  homeless 
vagabonds,  the  scum  of  society,  which  is  nowhere 
more  repulsive  or  more  miserable  than  it  is  here. 
His  home  was  nightly  filled  by  guests  who  came 
with  social  schemes  like  his  own,  each  one  more 
complicated  than  the  other,  each  one  forgetting 

242 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

in  its  reckoning  to  reckon  with  the  fundamental 
thing — human  nature  as  it  is.  He  was  besieged 
by  beggars,  and  the  more  he  gave,  the  more  mis- 
erable he  made  them;  although  it  was  the  great- 
est pleasure  of  his  life  to  give. 

He  deeply  felt  this  modern  problem  of  Mos- 
cow, this  human  sorrow  in  a  new  form — even  as 
he  had  always  felt  another's  woe.  Nor  was  it 
that  kind  of  love  which  is  a  feeling  for  a  class 
and  covers  a  multitude  of  sinners  out  of  one's 
sight ;  he  saw  and  felt  and  loved  the  individual. 
One  day  he  found  a  little  neglected  girl  standing 
in  a  half -frozen  puddle,  her  face  pale,  her  lips 
blue,  her  teeth  chattering.  He  drew  her  out  of 
the  mire,  led  her  into  a  tea-house,  warmed  her, 
fed  her,  and  sent  her  away  rejoicing.  Two  days 
after,  the  writer,  who  had  witnessed  the  scene, 
called  upon  him  and  found  him  still  depressed  by 
the  thought  of  the  little  girl.  "  To  think  of  it ! 
That  no  one  cared  for  the  child."  Growing  more 
and  more  conscious  of  the  fact  that  he  could  do 
nothing  to  change  existing  conditions  until  men 
were  changed,  he  preached,  to  all  social  reform- 
ers who  came,  a  very  unsatisfactory  sermon, 
whose  text  was,  "  The  kingdom  of  God  is  within 

243 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

you,"  and  whose  substance  was,  "  You  can't  re- 
form men  until  you  are  reformed.  The  kingdom 
of  God  has  to  begin  here,  now  and  in  you,  and  you 
have  to  Hve  it  by  love  into  another  and  another 
soul."  Russian  revolutionists  had  no  support 
whatever  from  a  man  with  such  views,  although 
the  state  regards  him  as  more  dangerous  than 
the  avowed  terrorist  whom  it  can  quickly  silence, 
and  whose  disappearance  from  Moscow  is  noticed 
only  by  a  few. 

It  is  providential  that  Tolstoy  had  the  power 
of  fame  and  the  harmlessness  of  the  non-resist- 
ant; for  these  two  facts  have  saved  him  from  the 
exile  into  which  have  been  sent  countless  num- 
bers who  have  provoked  the  authorities  far  less 
than  has  he.  He  lives  in  open  enmity  against 
the  government  whose  power  over  him  he  does 
not  acknowledge,  whose  corruption,  cruelty,  and 
hypocrisy  he  has  exposed  over  and  over  again, 
and  whose  absolutism  he  is  undermining  more 
than  any  other  person  in  Russia.  Whether  he 
wished  to  or  not,  he  became  the  soul  of  all  the 
opposition  and  the  dissatisfied  of  every  class  have 
gathered  around  the  banner  of  him  whose  reason- 
ing they  care  not  to  understand  and  do  not.  He 

244 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

became  without  doubt  the  strongest  man  in  Rus- 
sia, in  spite  of  his  defenseless  condition ;  stronger 
than  the  czar  who  lives  in  daily  terror  for  his 
life ;  stronger  than  the  officials  who,  in  spite  of 
Cossacks  and  their  whips,  are  making  the  coun- 
try ripe  for  revolution  and  their  own  speedy 
overthrow. 

Tolstoy^s  favorite  walk  in  Moscow  was  down 
the  river-bank  to  the  Kreml,  that  mixture  of 
Church  and  State,  of  barbarism  and  civilization; 
that  last  citadel  of  an  absolute  monarchy  among 
civilized  people.  Rugged,  quaint,  and  queer  as 
is  the  Kreml  was  this  frequent  visitor  on  whose 
footsteps  fastened  numbers  of  beggars  from 
whom  he  never  turned  away.  One  day,  he  says, 
he  was  going  to  give  some  money  to  a  beggar 
when  the  watch  came  and  with  the  butt  of  his 
gun  began  to  drive  away  the  importunate  fellow. 
Tolstoy  remonstrated,  and  asked  him  whether  he 
did  not  know  the  Gospels,  in  which  Christ  com- 
manded us  to  love  our  neighbor  and  do  good 
even  to  those  who  hate  us;  and  the  puzzled 
gendarme  replied  shrewdly :  "You  may  know  the 
Gospels,  but  you  don't  know  the  military  regu- 
lations." Yet  not  with  military  regulations  will 

245 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

they  build  up  this  rich  and  great  country,  now 
so  desperately  poor,  or  pacify  these  peaceful  mil- 
lions who  are  slowly  reaching  the  limit  of  their 
endurance.  The  more  they  beat  them  with  butts 
of  guns,  the  more  quickly  they  will  wake  from 
their  slumber  and  make  the  "Red  Place"  in 
front  of  the  Kreml  crimson  from  the  blood  of 
the  slain.  The  regulations  of  the  military  gov- 
ernor of  Moscow  may  create  momentary  awe ; 
but  one  need  not  see  far  or  keenly  to  feel  the 
growing  disorder  and  dissatisfaction  among  all 
classes.  Tolstoy,  who  lives  under  the  regulations 
of  Jesus,  has  more  power  over  the  mass  of  the 
Russian  people  than  has  the  garrison  of  Moscow, 
which  lives  under  the  regulations  of  the  gov- 
ernor. Some  people  accuse  Tolstoy  of  flight  and 
moral  cowardice,  because  he  went  back  to  his 
beloved  Yasnaya  Polyana.  It  may  have  been 
flight,  but  it  was  not  cowardice.  He  should  have 
stayed  at  the  center,  borne  the  brunt,  felt  all  the 
hopelessness,  and  brought  in  a  ray  of  light,  even 
if  he  could  not  bring  in  the  daybreak ;  but  his 
love  of  nature  drew  him  out  of  the  pestilential 
air  of  the  city  to  the  health-giving  green  of  his 
little  village;  and  he  obeyed  the  needs  of  his 

246 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

body,  and  of  his  mind  and  soul,  which  required 
rest,  quiet,  and  time  to  work.  But  even  in  Yas- 
naya  Polyana  he  was  not  hidden,  and  the  eyes  of 
the  world  followed  him  among  the  white  sapling 
birches,  as  they  had  followed  him  among  the 
gorgeous  churches  and  black  smokestacks  of 
that  city  which  is  the  center  of  Russian  intol- 
erance, the  Jerusalem  of  her  high  priesthood  and 
orthodox  believers,  even  as  Yasnaya  Polyana  is 
the  Mecca  of  all  those  who  believe  that  the  law 
of  Jesus  must  be  made  the  law  of  life. 


247 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  TEACHINGS  OP  TOLSTOY 

In  the  year  1883,  Turgenieff,  from  Paris,  where 
he  lay  upon  his  deathbed,  wrote  to  Tolstoy 
imploring  him  to  return  to  the  art  from  which 
he  had  fled  to  become  a  preacher  of  the  Gos- 
pel of  Jesus,  and  a  prophet  of  the  Kingdom 
of  God.  Turgenieff  wrote :  "I  have  not  written 
to  you  for  a  very  long  time  because  I  have  been 
very  ill,  and  am  now  lying  on  my  deathbed. 
I  shall  never  recover ;  I  know  that  positively.  I 
write  to  you  purposely  to  tell  you  how  glad  I  am 
to  have  been  your  contemporary,  and  to  ask  of 
you  the  granting  of  a  last  wish.  Do  return  to 
your  art.  The  gift  you  possess  comes  from  the 
same  source  from  which  all  good  things  proceed. 
How  happy  should  I  be  if  you  would  listen  to  me 
and  grant  my  request.  My  friend,  great  writer 
of  Russia,  do  listen  to  me !  Let  me  hear  from 
you  when  you  receive  this  letter,  and  let  me 
embrace  you    and   your    family  once   more." 

248 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Neither  the  plea  of  the  dying  nor  of  the  living 
friends  could  persuade  Tolstoy  to  take  up  his 
pen  for  any  other  purpose  than  that  of  proclaim- 
ing the  truths  he  had  discovered  concerning 
life,  and  doing  it  in  a  plain,  straightforward 
way,  without  the  cover  of  fiction.  He  wrote  now 
as  ever  from  within  and  of  himself ;  and  in  writ- 
ing obeyed  that  ever-present  desire  for  confes- 
sion and  self-examination,  more  than  the  desire 
to  impart  knowledge  to  others.  In  his  first 
didactic  book,  "What  is  my  Faith?"  he  de- 
scribes how  he  has  come  to  his  faith  in  Jesus 
and  in  that  portion  of  the  Gospels  which  he  be- 
lieves to  have  proceeded  from  the  lips  of  Christ, 
and  which  has  revolutionized  his  own  life,  bring- 
ing him  peace  and  happiness.  The  center  of  his 
faith  and  of  the  Christian  religion  he  finds  in 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  to  which,  he  says,  the 
Church  pays  little  heed,  being  too  much  occupied 
in  proclaiming  fasts  and  feasts,  and  explaining 
strange  doctrines  and  dogmas.  The  doctrine  of 
non-resistance  seems  to  him  the  most  important, 
and  becomes  the  text  of  all  the  sermons  which 
he  preaches  to  individuals,  authorities,  and  na- 
tions. Over  and  over  again  he  says:   "Force 

249 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

must  never  be  used,  even  in  the  suppression  of 
evil,  and  wrong  can  effectually  be  righted  by 
repaying  evil  with  good."  He  discovered  in  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  five  laws  which  have  be- 
come his  rule  for  faith  and  conduct,  and  which 
he  believes  will  bring  the  Kingdom  of  God  into 
men's  hearts,  and  peace  and  happiness  upon  the 
earth.  The  five  laws  he  summarizes  thus :  — 

"  Live  at  peace  with  all  men  and  do  not  re- 
gard any  one  as  your  inferior." 

"Do  not  make  the  beauty  of  the  body  an 
occasion  for  lust." 

"  Every  man  should  have  only  one  wife  and 
every  woman  only  one  husband,  and  they  should 
not  be  divorced  for  any  reason." 

"  Do  not  revenge  yourself  and  do  not  punish 
because  you  think  yourself  insulted  or  hurt. 
Suffer  all  wrong,  and  do  not  repay  evil  with 
evil ;  for  you  are  all  children  of  one  Father." 

"Never  break  the  peace  in  the  name  of 
patriotism." 

These  five  laws,  which  overlap  one  another 
and  are  not  very  clearly  defined,  represent  the 
great  principles  upon  which  Tolstoy  would  base 
the  new  world  order.    To  the  question,  how  a 

250 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

state  or  society  can  exist  without  the  use  of 
force,  he  gives  the  following  answer,  which  is 
characteristic,  inasmuch  as  it  is  the  answer  which 
he  always  gives  when  one  questions  his  theories. 
"There  can  be  no  answer  to  such  a  question," 
he  says,  "  because  the  question  is  wrongly  put. 
We  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  organization  of 
the  state  or  qf  what  we  call  society,  but  we  have 
everything  to  do  with  the  question  how  person- 
ally we  have  to  act  in  the  face  of  the  ever-recur- 
ring dilemmas ;  whether  we  are  to  subordinate 
our  conscience  to  the  conditions  around  us,  or 
whether  we  are  to  feel  ourselves  at  one  with  a 
state  which  hangs  erring  people  to  the  gallows, 
which  commands  soldiers  to  commit  murder,  and 
poisons  and  demoralizes  people  with  alcohol  and 
opium,  or  whether  we  are  to  subordinate  our 
actions  to  our  conscience  alone,  so  that  conse- 
quently we  cannot  have  any  part  in  the  actions 
of  the  government  which  offends  our  conscience. 
What  form  the  state  will  have,  what  results  such 
actions  will  bring,  I  do  not  know.  I  know  only 
that  if  I  follow  the  promptings  of  a  reasonable 
love,  the  results  cannot  be  evil ;  just  as  nothing 
evil  can  happen  when  the  bee  follows  its  higher 

251 


TOLSTOY,  THE  MAN 

instincts  and  goes  with  the  swarm  to  its  de- 
struction. Herein  is  the  power  of  the  teachings 
of  Jesus  :  that  they  bring  one  from  a  condition  of 
doubt  to  a  position  of  absolute  certainty.  I  wish 
to  repeat  it,"  he  says,  "  the  question  is  not.  What 
form  of  government  is  the  safest  ?  but  the  one 
question  for  every  man,  and  a  question  which  one 
cannot  avoid,  is  whether  a  good  and  reasonable 
being  who  has  come  into  the  world  for  a  brief 
moment  and  at  any  moment  may  disappear  from 
it, — whether  he  can  be  a  party  to  the  killing  of 
erring  people,  or  to  the  killing  of  all  people  with- 
out exception,  who  belong  to  a  different  race  or 
nation  and  whom  he  calls  enemies.  There  can  be 
only  one  answer  to  the  question.  What  the  con- 
sequences will  be.  I  answer,  only  good ;  for  only 
good  can  come  if  we  act  according  to  the  high- 
est, known  laws,  according  to  conscience  and 
love."  If  one  replies  that  to  live  according  to 
these  laws  one  has  to  suffer,  he  says  :  "And  don't 
they  suffer  here,  who  do  not  live  according  to 
these  laws?  Just  walk  through  the  streets  of 
your  cities  and  see  these  pale,  emaciated  crea- 
tures who  struggle  for  their  daily  bread.  They 
have  left  house  and  home,  wife  and  children  for 

252 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

the  sake  of  a  living,  and  yet  they  are  not  satis- 
fied; neither  the  poor  devil  with  his  hundred 
rubles,  nor  the  rich  man  with  his  hundred  thou- 
sand rubles.  These  are  the  true  sufferers.  They 
lack  all  conditions  of  happiness.  They  lack  first 
of  all  the  touch  with  nature ;  they  never  see  the 
sun  rise;  they  see  forest  and  field  only  from 
their  carriages  ;  they  have  never  sown  anything, 
and  like  the  prisoners  who  find  comfort  in  a 
spider  or  a  mouse,  so  these  people  find  comfort 
in  parrots,  dogs,  monkeys,  or  sickly  plants,  which 
often  they  do  not  even  attend  to  themselves. 
Secondly,  they  lack  that  happiness  which  labor 
brings ;  first,  pleasant  and  voluntary  labor,  and 
then  physical  labor  which  brings  sound  sleep  and 
a  good  appetite.  All  the  unhappy  ones  of  earth, 
dignitaries  and  millionaires,  like  prisoners  have 
no  work;  and  they  struggle  against  diseases 
which  are  a  result  of  this  lack.  Only  such  labor  as^ 
is  useful  and  pleasant  makes  happiness ;  and  as 
these  people  need  nothing,  their  labor  is  always 
distasteful  to  them ;  for  I  have  never  known  one 
who  praised  his  work,  or  did  it  with  the  zest 
with  which  a  porter  shovels  snow  from  the  side- 
walk. The  third  condition  of  happiness  which 

253 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

they  lack  is  the  family.  Most  of  the  worldly 
minded  are  adulterers ;  and  where  this  is  not  the 
case  children  become  to  them  a  burden  rather 
than  a  pleasure.  If  they  care  for  them  they  do 
not  associate  with  them.  They  are  left  in  charge 
of  strangers ;  first,  foreign  governesses  and 
tutors,  and  then  the  officials  in  the  schools ;  con- 
sequently they  have  from  their  children  only  sor- 
row; that  is,  they  have  children  who  are  just 
as  unhappy  as  they  are,  and  who  have  only  one 
feeling  towards  their  parents ;  namely,  the  wish 
that  they  may  soon  die,  so  that  they  may  in- 
herit their  wealth.  They  lack  the  fourth  con- 
dition of  happiness ;  the  loving  association  with 
people  of  all  stations  and  conditions;  for  the 
higher  a  man  rises  in  life,  the  narrower  grows 
the  circle  with  which  acquaintance  is  possible. 
The  peasant  may  associate  with  the  whole  world, 
and  if  1,000,000  people  refuse  to  associate  with 
him  there  are  still  left  80,000,000  who  live  and 
work  just  as  he  does  and  with  whom  he  may 
come  into  immediate  relationship,  whether  they 
live  in  Archangel  or  Astrachan;  and  he  need 
not  wait  for  an  introduction,  or  make  formal 
calls.   The  fifth  condition  of  happiness  which 

254 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

they  lack  is  health  and  a  painless  death ;  and  the 
higher  the  social  standing  the  more  do  they  lack 
these  conditions.  Take  the  average  well-to-do 
man  and  his  wife,"  Tolstoy  continues,  "  and  take 
a  peasant  and  his  wife  and  compare  them,  and 
you  will  find  that  in  spite  of  the  hunger  which 
the  peasants  endure,  and  the  cruelly  hard  work 
which  they  have  to  do,  they  are  usually  the 
healthier.  Call  to  mind  the  majority  of  rich  men 
and  their  wives,  and  you  will  find  that  the 
greater  number  is  ill.  Think  how  most  of  your 
rich  acquaintances  have  died  one  after  the  other 
of  some  loathsome  or  terrible  disease.  They  ruin 
themselves  for  the  sake  of  the  teachings  of  this 
world,  and  countless  men  and  women  follow 
them,  living  the  same  cruel  life  and  dying  the 
same  painful  death.  And  shall  we  not  go,  when 
Christ  calls,  to  the  obedience  of  his  law  ? "  To 
the  criticism  that  his  teaching  would  immedi- 
ately result  in  poverty,  he  replies  :  "Yes  indeed, 
but  what  does  it  mean  to  be  poor  ?  To  be  poor 
means  not  to  live  in  the  city,  but  in  the  country ; 
not  to  be  locked  up  in  a  room,  but  to  be  at  work 
in  field  or  forest ;  to  rejoice  in  the  beauty  of  the 
sky  and  the  warmth  of  the  sun.    To  be  poor 

255 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

means  to  be  hungry  three  times  a  day,  to  sleep 
restfully  instead  of  having  insomnia;  it  means 
to  have  children  and  to  train  them  yourself ;  it 
means  to  be  able  to  associate  with  most  men ;  and 
above  all  it  means  not  to  have  to  do  that  which 
is  distasteful  to  you,  and  not  to  fear  what  is  to 
happen.  Jesus  said :  '  The  laborer  is  worthy  of  his 
hire,'  and  he  who  works  will  get  enough  to  eat. 
Moreover,  we  are  not  in  the  world  to  be  served 
but  to  be  of  service  to  others.  Thus  the  true 
happiness  and  the  true  wealth  will  come  if  we 
obey  the  law  of  Jesus." 

Two  purely  theological  works  follow  this  con- 
fession of  his  faith.  One  of  them  is  a  "Critique 
of  Dogmatic  Theology,"  and  the  other  a  trans- 
lation of  the  four  Gospels,  which  he  has  woven 
into  one.  In  the  first  work  it  is  the  theology  of 
the  Greek  Church  that  he  makes  the  target 
of  an  unusually  sharp  and  bitter  attack.  He 
says :  "  It  grows  clearer  to  me  every  day  that  for 
some  reason  it  seemed  necessary,  at  the  expense 
of  healthful  reasoning,  and  the  laws  of  logic 
and  of  conscience,  to  reduce  God  to  a  low,  half- 
heathenish  conception.  .  .  .  The  whole  teaching 
of  that  church  is  not  only  false,  but  a  lie  and  a 

256 


rf--  fe 


V 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

deception,  which  for  centuries  has  been  built  up 
for  certain  base  purposes."  He  closes  the  book 
very  sarcastically,  citing  the  last  sentence  from 
the  "  Simple  Theology  "  of  the  Church,  where  it 
teaches  that  "He  who  rules  the  universe  has 
appointed  the  earthly  rulers,  and  has  given  them 
dominion  and  power  for  the  well-being  of  the 
people ;  moreover,  that  God  through  these  rulers 
appoints  all  lower  officials,"  and  this  sentence 
ends  in  an  admonition  "  to  be  regular  and  faith- 
ful in  the  payment  of  taxes  and  tithings."  To 
this  Tolstoy  adds  these  words :  "  With  this  moral 
application  of  Christian  dogma,  ends  the  'Sim- 
ple Theology/  "  In  a  later  work  upon  a  similar 
subject,  he  is  more  outspoken,  and  characterizes 
theology  as  "An  infamous  tool  of  politics."  The 
relation  of  theology  and  politics,  or  of  the  church 
and  state,  he  describes  thus  :  "  Rome  was,  at  the 
time  of  the  rise  of  Christianity,  a  nest  of  thieves 
which  enlarged  itself  constantly  by  robbery,  and 
which  subjected  other  nations  by  force  and  mur- 
der. These  robbers  with  their  leaders,  who  were 
now  called  Caes^^r  and  now  Augustus,  plundered 
and  murdered  people  in  order  to  satisfy  their 
fickle  desires.  One  of  the  heirs  of  these  robber 

257 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

chiefs,  Constantine,  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
certain  Christian  doctrines  were  preferable  to 
his  own ;  perhaps  the  following :  *  You  know  that 
the  princes  of  this  world  have  dominion  over 
them,  but  it  shall  not  be  so  with  you/  *  thou 
shalt  not  kill,  thou  shalt  not  commit  adultery, 
thou  shalt  gather  treasures  upon  the  earth,  judge 
not,  resist  not  the  evil/  Some  one  must  have 
told  Constantine  something  like  this  :  *  You  want 
to  call  yourself  a  Christian,  and  at  the  same 
time  disobey  these  laws,  continue  to  be  a  robber 
chief,  to  go  to  war,  to  live  in  luxury,  and  to  kill. 
Well,  all  that  can  be  reconciled/  So  the  Chris- 
tians blessed  Constantine  and  praised  his  power 
and  influence,  they  declared  him  the  chosen  of 
God,  and  anointed  him  with  holy  oil.  As  often 
as  a  rascal  succeeded  in  robbing,  plundering  and 
killing  thousands  of  people  who  never  did  him 
any  harm,  they  anointed  him  with  holy  oil ;  for 
of  course  this  was  a  man  of  God.  As  often  as 
one  of  these  '  anointed  of  the  Lord '  had  the  de- 
sire to  beat  his  own  or  a  strange  people,  the 
Church  prepared  holy  water  for  him.  They 
sprinkled  with  it  the  cross,  —  that  cross  which 
Christ  carried  and  on  which  he  died  because  he 

258 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

resolutely  condemned  these  murderers,  —  the 
priests  took  it  into  their  hands,  blessed  this  man 
and  then  sent  him  out  to  murder  and  to  hang  in 
the  name  of  the  crucified  Christ."  Tolstoy  is  gen- 
erous enough  to  say  that  the  priests  were  cor- 
rupted by  these  robber  politicians,  and  that  only 
later  did  they  become  conscious  and  professional 
deceivers.  The  relation  of  church  and  state  he 
defines  thus :  "  The  words  '  Christian  State  *  have 
about  as  much  meaning  as  'hot  ice,'  or  *  glowing 
ice.' "  There  is  to  him  only  one  alternative : 
"Either  there  is  no  Christianity  or  there  is  no 
State." 

Thus  Tolstoy  proves  himself  an  anarchist, 
and  he  does  not  hesitate  to  call  himself  one. 
"  Do  not  be  afraid  of  that  word,"  he  said  to  the 
writer,  "I  am  such  an  anarchist  as  the  early 
Christians  were ;  I  am  such  an  anarchist  as  the 
words  of  Jesus  have  made  me,  and  by-and-by 
we  shall  become  accustomed  to  the  true  meaning 
of  that  word.  The  man  who  is  bom  again  needs 
no  civil  or  military  authority,  and  it  can  have 
no  power  over  him."  Little  as  Tolstoy's  Chris- 
tian anarchy  can  have  any  relation  to  the  ordi- 
nary state,  just  so  little  relation  has  it  to  what 

259 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

we  understand  by  anarchy,  which  we  define  as 
"A  system  which  teaches  that  an  ideal  condition 
of  society  can  be  brought  about  by  revolutionary 
force."  Neither  is  it  in  any  way  related  to  mod- 
em socialism,  whose  theorizing  he  considers  as 
false  as  the  conclusions  which  it  draws.  The 
ideal  society  which  Tolstoy  preaches  cannot  be 
brought  about  by  any  of  these  agencies,  but 
rather  by  the  influence  of  those  individuals  who 
live  according  to  the  law  of  Jesus. 

His  translation  of  the  Gospels  is  accompanied 
Jby  quotations  from  Russian  and  foreign  com- 
mentators, with  whom  he  discusses  the  meaning 
of  the  text.  Beside  the  Greek  text,  he  printed 
the  Russian  translation,  and  finally  his  own ; 
always  stating  the  reason  for  his  deviation  from 
the  Russian.  This  large  work  he  condensed  into  a 
smaller  one,  leaving  out  his  comments  and  those 
of  the  commentators.  Arbitrarily  he  divides  the 
Gospels  into  twelve  parts,  and  he  proves  his  divi- 
sion by  citations  from  the  words  of  Jesus.  Each 
chapter  is  headed  by  a  quotation  from  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  which  is  the  briefest  expression  of  what 
Jesus  meant  to  convey  by  the  words  which  fol- 
low. He  has  left  out  most  of  the  miracles  as  well 

260 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

as  everything  which  was  not  quite  clear  to  him ; 
and  the  following  narrative  of  the  sick  man  at 
the  pool  of  Bethesda,  characterizes  his  whole 
treatment  of  the  Gospel  story.  "  In  Jerusalem 
there  was  a  bath,  and  a  sick  man  was  lying 
there  —  without  making  an  effort,  expecting  to 
be  healed  by  a  miracle.  Jesus  stepped  up  to  the 
sick  man  and  said:  *Do  not  expect  healing 
through  a  miracle,  but  live  according  to  the 
strength  which  is  in  you  and  do  not  deceive 
yourself  about  the  meaning  of  life.'  The  sick 
man  obeyed  Jesus,  arose  and  went  away."  In 
spite  of  many  such  liberties  with  the  text,  the 
work  startles  one  by  its  ingenious  compilation 
as  well  as  by  the  skill  with  which  Tolstoy  makes 
the  words  of  Jesus  conform  to  his  ideas.  The 
best  known  among  his  didactic  works  he  calls, 
"  What  shall  we  do  then  ?  "  Only  small  portions 
of  it  have  been  printed  in  Russia,  and  abroad  it 
has  appeared  in  a  somewhat  incomplete  and  mu- 
tilated form.  After  having  been  away  from  the 
city  for  more  than  eighteen  years,  he  tells  of 
his  first  touch  with  its  life,  and  especially  with 
that  part  of  it  which  hides  itself  in  the  cellars 
of  Moscow  and  in  its  wretched  asylums  and 

261 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

slums.  He  came  in  close  touch  with  it  during 
his  services  as  a  census  enumerator ;  a  work 
which  he  undertook  in  order  to  be  able  to  make 
investigations  in  regard  to  the  prevailing  pov- 
erty, and  to  find  ways  and  means  for  its  preven- 
tion and  relief.  He  tells  how  he  came  to  one  of 
the  most  wretched  of  these  places,  the  Rhasonoff 
Asylum.  Something  very  wonderful  happened 
to  him  there.  He  had  taken  money  with  him 
and  could  not  rid  himself  of  it,  although  he  had 
brought  it  with  him  for  that  purpose.  "  For/' 
he  says,  "I  met  there  in  those  cellars  people 
whom  I  could  not  help  because  they  were  used 
to  hardship  and  labor  and  had  a  stronger  grasp 
upon  life  than  I  had.  Again  I  met  others  whom 
I  could  not  help  because  they  were  just  such  peo- 
ple as  I  was.  The  majority  of  the  unfortunates 
were  unfortunate  merely  because  they  had  lost 
the  ability  and  the  desire  to  earn  their  daily 
bread ;  that  is,  their  misfortune  consisted  in  the 
fact  that  they  were  just  as  I  was.  Real  suffer- 
ing was  relieved  in  these  places  by  their  own 
comrades,  better  than  I  could  have  relieved  it. 
Money  could  make  none  of  them  happy."  He 
comes  to  the  conclusion  that  poverty  can  be 

262 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

stopped  only  as  one  goes  to  the  root  of  the 
evil ;  and  the  evil  is  our  whole  social  fabric. 
"What  shall  we  do  then?"  he  asks.  "Do  just 
what  Jesus  and  John  the  Baptist  told  us  to  do. 
Give  up  everything  which  we  do  not  abso- 
lutely need,  and  adjust  our  lives  so  that  we  will 
have  to  take  as  little  as  possible  of  labor  and 
strength  from  others.  There  is  no  such  thing," 
he  says,  "  as  a  privileged  idle  class,  although  we 
have  been  trying  to  prove  that  the  division  of 
labor  necessitates  that  some  shall  paint  and 
think  while  others  perspire  and  labor.  We  call 
painting  and  thinking,  art  and  science ;  but  art 
is  art  only  as  it  conveys  to  men  the  highest  idea 
of  life  and  salvation,  and  science  is  truly  science 
only  as  it  teaches  men  what  is  their  object  in 
life  and  what  their  destiny.  We  call  that,  con- 
temptuously, religion;  but  it  is  the  only  true 
science.  Counting  invisible  bugs  and  stars,  look- 
ing for  sun-spots  and  moon  channels,  and  add- 
ing to  it  an  *  ology,'  does  not  make  a  true  science  ; 
and  upon  such  science  and  such  art  we  cannot 
base  our  unjust  social  division."  He  insists 
that  the  so-called  scientists  misunderstand  Chris- 
tianity, that  they  judge  it  from  the  distorted 

263 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

faith  of  the  churches,  and  that  they  take  less 
trouble  to  probe  for  the  genuine  faith  than  they 
do  to  search  for  the  history  of  the  pollywog. 
"What  shall  we  do  then?''  he  asks  again;  and 
answers  :  "  Let  us  not  deceive  ourselves  as  to  the 
meaning  of  life ;  and  as  soon  as  we  realize  that 
we  are  upon  the  wrong  path,  turn  about  and 
walk  upon  the  narrow  one.  Secondly,  let  us  not 
believe  that  we  are  better  than  others;  and, 
lastly,  let  us  work  with  all  our  might  physically, 
and  struggle  with  the  forces  of  nature  for  the 
maintenance  of  our  own  lives  and  the  lives  of 
others." 

"What  is  the  purpose  of  life?"  he  asks  in  a 
book  which  is  as  didactic  as  the  others,  but  much 
more  sweet-spirited ;  and  he  gives  the  answer  in 
one  sentence :  "  The  whole  aim  of  life  is  self- 
sacrificing  labor  for  others." 

That  Christianity  is  not  a  mystical  religion 
but  a  new  philosophy  of  life,  he  declares,  and 
proves  in  his  most  important  work  of  this  kind, 
"  The  Kingdom  of  God  is  within  you."  It  is  an 
enlargement  of  his  first  work,  "  Confession  of 
Faith,"  and  here  he  searchingly  reviews  all  his 
teachings,  and  tries  to  prove  them.   He  points  to 

264 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

the  Church  as  the  enemy  and  perverter  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  warns  men  not  to  judge  it  by  that 
institution,  meaning  primarily  the  Greek  Russian 
Church. 

There  are,  according  to  Tolstoy,  three  ways 
of  looking  at  life.  The  first  and  oldest  is  the  in- 
dividual or  animal,  which  considers  the  pre- 
servation and  well-being  of  the  self,  regardless 
of  the  consequences  to  others.  All  the  heathen 
religions  in  their  perverted  forms  teach  this,  as 
do  also  Buddhism,  Mohammedanism,  and  even 
Christianity.  He  considers  this  stage  the  child- 
hood of  the  religious  consciousness.  The  second 
view  of  the  aim  of  life  consists,  not  in  the  well- 
being  of  the  individual,  but  in  that  of  a  number 
of  individuals  —  such  as  the  family,  a  tribe,  a 
nation,  a  state,  or  humanity  as  a  whole.  From 
this  view  have  developed  all  patriarchal  and 
social  religious  faiths  ;  such  as  the  Chinese,  the 
Japanese,  the  Jewish,  the  state  religion  of  the  Ro- 
mans, and  our  own  state  religion  as  well  as  the 
so-called  humanitarian  religions  like  the  Positiv- 
ists."  The  third  view,  which  is  represented  by 
Tolstoy,  and  over  and  over  emphasized  in  his 

teachings,  is,  that  the  purpose  of  life  is  not  in  the 

265 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

attaining  of  the  well-being  of  the  individual,  or  of 
any  class  or  number  of  individuals,  but  to  express 
and  to  serve  that  divine  will  which  has  called 
forth  the  whole  earth ;  or,  as  he  states  it  less  tech- 
nically, "  It  is  the  business  of  every  man  *  to  do 
the  will  of  Him  that  sent  me  into  the  world/  " 

Humanity,  he  claims,  has  passed  through  the 
first  two  stages,  and  now  is  the  time  to  begin 
the  fulfillment  of  the  third,  which  begins  by  ac- 
cepting the  law  of  Jesus.  To  the  criticism  that 
this  ideal  is  unattainable  he  answers  that  "  it  is 
our  business  to  try,  and  that  in  trying  there  will 
be  an  increase  of  the  well-being  of  all.  The 
time  will  come,"  he  says,  "when  what  seems  to 
us  impossible  and  visionary,  will  be  perfectly 
natural  and  easy  to  realize.  The  world  is  now 
suffering  from  the  discord  between  conscience 
and  action.  We  still  rule  over  men,  and  consider 
them  our  menials  and  servants,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  our  conscience  tells  us  that  all  men  are 
equal.  We  obey  laws  which  are  human,  imper- 
fect, and  unjust,  we  go  to  war  and  murder  men, 
we  smother  conscience  by  narcotics  and  luxuries, 
by  music,  art,  theatres,  smoke,  and  alcohol.  No- 
thing can  save  us  from  this  inconsistency  and 

266 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

struggle  but  the  Christian  faith  as  expressed  in 
the  law  of  Jesus." 

This  constant  attack  upon  our  view  of  the  aim 
of  life  has  not  remained  without  its  effect  upon 
individuals  of  all  classes,  and  has  reached  from 
the  mujik's  cabin  to  the  throne  of  the  august 
czar.  The  proposal  of  the  Hague  Conference  for 
the  settlement  of  international  difficulties,  which 
emanated  from  the  czar,  is  one  of  the  tangible 
results  of  Tolstoy's  ungentle  and  insistent  teach- 
ing. Another  result  is  a  deeper  look  into  the 
meaning  of  the  Gospels  on  the  part  of  the  Church 
authorities  in  Russia ;  a  more  humane  treatment 
of  prisoners  and  a  greater  philanthropic  activity 
among  the  rich  in  the  cities  of  Russia ;  the  last 
improvement  being  due  largely  to  Tolstoy's  con- 
demnation of  wealth,  its  use  and  abuse. 

Again  let  me  say  that  his  teachings  come  from 
within  the  man  as  they  have  been  borne  in  upon 
him  from  what  he  thinks  is  the  will  of  God  and 
what  he  sees  of  the  suffering  of  men.  He  felt 
the  great  contrasts  which  in  Russian  cities  are 
stronger  than  elsewhere;  he  saw  flaunting  lux- 
ury and  pitiable  poverty  side  by  side,  and  he 
cried  out  against  such  conditions,  which  are  in 

267 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

discord  with  the  will  of  a  loving  God.  No  one 
will  ever  know  how  these  harsh  sayings  of  his 
were  born  out  of  love  for  man, — for  the  common 
man ;  the  suffering  and  patient  mujik  who  sup- 
ports a  vast  state  by  his  labor,  receiving  in  re- 
turn scorn  and  abuse,  and  enduring  hunger  and 
cold.  Tolstoy  has  idealized  the  common  man ;  but 
no  more  than  has  the  Master  who  held  up  a  little 
child  as  a  model  to  pattern  after,  and  the  self- 
sacrificing  gift  of  an  outcast  woman  as  the  most 
fragrant  of  offerings ;  passing  by  kings  and  priests, 
to  call  the  fishermen  of  Galilee  to  be  his  apostles 
and  disciples.  Tolstoy  dignifies  labor,  physical 
labor,  and  calls  all  of  us  who  live  by  our  brains, 
"  social  parasites."  He  may  be  wrong ;  but  after 
all  has  been  said,  it  remains  true  that  the  man 
who  gives,  in  exchange  for  the  bread  he  gets,  the 
exertion  of  his  muscle  and  the  sweat  of  his  brow, 
is  the  most  honest  man.  In  a  country  like  Russia, 
where  to  live  off  the  state  is  the  business  of  a 
good  third  of  its  population,  and  where  common 
labor  and  the  common  laborer  are  regarded  as 
both  "  common  and  unclean,"  his  condemnation 
may  be  a  just  one  if  not  always  temperate. 
He  exalts  the  words  of  Jesus,  and  condemns 
268 


Photograph  by  M.  Duumpilbr 

COUNT  TOLSTOY  AND  HIS  DISCIPLE  AND  FOLLOWER, 
TSHERTKOFF 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

the  Church  which  has  made  of  a  rehgion,  pure, 
lofty,  and  spiritual,  one  of  signs,  wonders,  idols^ 
and  forms.  Neither  is  the  exaltation  too  high  or 
the  condemnation  too  severe.  The  words  of  Jesus 
are  life,  while  the  mumbled  words  of  Russian 
priests  are  like  the  enchantments  of  sorcerers 
and  soothsayers,  and  have  deadened  the  spiritual 
life  of  their  adherents.  Tolstoy  does  not  claim 
that  his  teachings  are  original.  "If  they  were 
original,"  he  said  to  the  writer,  "  they  would  not 
be  true."  The  truth  he  teaches  is  as  old  as  all 
truth ;  it  was  bom  in  the  bosom  of  God  before 
the  world  was,  and  brought  to  light  and  into  life 
by  Jesus  Christ.  Nor  are  Tolstoy's  teachings  pro- 
found ;  he  means  to  be  so  simple  that  a  child 
can  understand,  and  it  is  his  desire  for  sim- 
plicity, that  garb  of  truth,  which  made  him  for- 
sake an  art  into  whose  atmosphere  he  was  born, 
which  wooed  him  in  his  youth,  which,  in  middle 
age  brought  him  far-reaching  fame,  and  in  the 
winter  of  his  life  never-fading  laurels.  He 
shrank  from  nobody  and  from  nothing  when  he 
felt  it  his  duty  to  say  just  what  he  thought  to  be 
the  truth,  and  what  he  knew  to  be  the  will  of  God ; 
for  he  had  not  only  the  teacher's  insight  into  truth, 

269 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

but  also  the  prophet^s  courage  and  the  seer's 
vision  of  God.  The  Czar's  throne  was  not  so  high 
to  him  as  the  throne  of  God,  the  Metropohtan  of 
Moscow  not  so  sacred  as  his  divine  Master.  Both 
were  condemned,  and  were  called  murderers  and 
idolaters.  He  was  excommunicated,  and  he  would 
have  been  imprisoned  or  exiled  if  these  powers 
had  not  realized  that  he  was  not  fighting  with 
carnal  weapons,  and  that  they  could  not  defeat  or 
silence  him  by  chains  or  dungeon  walls.  It  is  a 
case  where  a  man  has  proved  true  the  words  of 
the  prophets,  and  the  common  teaching  of  his- 
tory, that  "  Out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  suck- 
lings," and  not  out  of  the  mouths  of  mighty  guns, 
or  mightier  kings,  "  Hath  he  ordained  strength." 
Tolstoy  has  opposed  the  hard  and  cold  dogma- 
tism of  the  church,  and  has  put  into  its  place  the 
reasonable  and  broad  teaching  of  Jesus.  He  de- 
nies the  existence  of  a  God  who  is  man-made, 
whimsical,  autocratic,  and  arbitrary,  and  believes 
J  in  a  God  who  has  revealed  himself  in  love  and 
law,  and  who  permeates  all  things.  He  denies 
the  efficacy  of  punishment  in  the  redemption  of 
men,  and  the  use  of  force  in  maintaining  or  de- 
fending states,  nations,  or  society  ;  and  teaches 

270 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

that  men  who  voluntarily  obey  the  law  of  Jesus, 
will  alone  bring  the  Kingdom  of  God  upon  the 
earth  and  establish  it.  He  denies  that  patriot- 
ism is  a  virtue,  and  that  killing  men  in  battle  is 
not  murder ;  he  teaches  that  all  men,  of  what- 
ever race  or  color,  are  brothers,  and  that  the 
law  of  Jesus  which  bids  us  to  love  all  men  must 
be  obeyed,  rather  than  the  dictates  of  earthly 
authorities,  which  force  us  to  carry  arms  and 
use  them  either  in  the  defense  of  old,  or  in  the 
acquisition  of  new  territory.  Neither  hate  nor 
vengeance  should  have  a  place  in  human  hearts, 
he  says ;  and  men  will  be  redeemed,  and  society 
redeemed,  only  by  the  divine  pity  and  loving 
forgiveness. 

Whether  he  be  right  or  wrong,  he  is  so  sure 
of  being  right  that  he  has  placed  his  whole  life 
in  the  balance;  believing  that  he  knows  the 
truth,  and  that  it  is  the  truth  of  which  Jesus 
said  :  "It  shall  make  men  free." 


271 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  MISUNDERSTOOD  TOLSTOY 

During  the  winter  of  1903,  while  recovering 
from  a  severe  illness,  Tolstoy  received  a  letter 
from  an  English  friend,  calling  his  attention  to 
the  fact  that  Louise  of  Tuscany,  the  divorced 
wife  of  the  Crown  Prince  of  Saxony,  had  excused 
her  action  in  leaving  her  husband  and  children 
by  saying  that  Tolstoy,  through  his  teachings 
about  matrimony,  had  encouraged  her  deplorable 
action.  This  letter,  which  he  answered  in  a  some- 
what ungentle  spirit,  a  fact  which  he  afterwards 
greatly  regretted,  pained  him  very  much ;  for  he, 
in  common  with  all  great  teachers,  was  realizing 
that  many  of  his  precepts,  although  he  tried  to 
make  them  very  plain,  had  not  only  been  misun- 
derstood but  also  misapplied.  Especially  was  this 
true  in  regard  to  that  very  subject  of  marriage ; 
a  relation  which  he  maintained  purely  and 
sacredly,  and  against  whose  abuse  and  misuse, 
particularly  in  the  higher  circles,  he  had  lifted  up 

272 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

his  voice.  The  "Kreutzer  Sonata,"  the  book  in 
which  he  presents  his  views  of  matrimony  among 
certain  classes,  created  a  great  sensation  in  Rus- 
sia and  out  of  it,  and  is  certainly  the  most  mis- 
understood, and  consequently  the  most  unfor- 
tunate of  his  writings.  His  idea  of  literature, 
which  made  him  write  so  plainly  that  "he  who 
runs  may  read,"  has  had  just  the  opposite  effect 
from  what  he  intended  ;  for  they  who  ran  away, 
misread  and  misunderstood  him,  and  made  him 
the  apostle  of  libertinism.  Although  he  tried  to 
prove  that  without  a  true  view  of  life,  and  with- 
out noble  ideals,  even  matrimony  may  become 
immoral,  many,  if  not  most  people  understood 
him  to  mean  that  matrimony  is  no  better  than 
concubinage,  or,  perhaps  more  correctly  speaking, 
that  concubinage  is  as  good  as  matrimony.  He 
tried  to  show  that  marriage  does  not  save  a  man 
from  committing  adultery,  even  with  his  own 
wife ;  but  men  and  women  understood  him  to  say 
that  there  may  be  unlawful  relations  between 
the  sexes  without  committing  adultery.  His  own 
view  of  marriage  he  expressed  to  the  writer  in 
these  words  :  "  Marriage  is  an  elevation  for  such 
as  we."  He  considers  that  much  which  happens 

273 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

in  the  married  life  is  a  lowering  of  that  state, 
which  he  does  not  consider  the  ideal  one,  but  natu- 
ral and  sacred.  Basing  his  views  upon  the  words 
of  Jesus  in  Matt.  v.  28,  and  xix.  11,  12,  he  con- 
siders the  single  life  the  ideal  one,  even  if  so  the 
whole  human  race  ceases  to  exist.  Upon  no  other 
point  does  one  meet  so  many  criticisms  and  con- 
demnations of  Tolstoy  and  his  views  as  upon  this 
one ;  and  he  is  especially  censured  for  not  living 
according  to  what  he  teaches  to  be  the  ideal  mar- 
ried state.  While  he  would  not  defend  himself 
against  these,  one  can  truthfully  say  that  as  soon 
as  he  had  light  upon  the  subject  he  took  what  he 
considers  the  first  steps  leading  to  the  ideal ;  steps 
which  he  believes  it  possible  and  essential  for 
every  man  to  take.  The  first  one,  "purity  before 
marriage,"  he  did  not  attain  because  it  was  never 
held  up  to  him  as  an  ideal ;  adultery  in  the  single 
state  with  a  lewd  or  a  married  woman  being  not 
only  uncondemned  but  encouraged.  Tolstoy  con- 
fesses his  unconscious  sin  in  this,  and  has  long  be- 
lieved that  impure  relations,  at  any  time  and  in 
any  state,  are  absolutely  sinful  and  against  the  law 
of  Jesus.  He  says  that  the  second  attainable  step 
is  "the  maintenance  of  the  married  state  with 

274 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

one  woman."  He  has  met  this  requirement  in 
the  face  of  a  society  which  encouraged  the  covet- 
ing of  another  man's  wife,  and  where  the  tempta- 
tions to  break  this  law  were  many  and  great,  both 
from  without  and  from  within.  No  one  will 
question  the  fact  that  he  has  been  faithful  to  his 
wife,  giving  her  his  fullest  devotion  and  purest 
love.  The  children  who  were  bom  to  him  were 
not  unwelcome  to  Countess  Tolstoy,  in  whom  the 
mother  spirit  is  remarkably  developed,  and  who 
believes  with  her  husband  that  the  aim  of  mar- 
riage should  be  to  give  to  the  world  well-bom  and 
well-trained  children.  She  believes  with  him  that 
the  children  should  not  be  given  over  to  the  care 
of  strangers ;  she  has  nursed  all  but  one  of  them 
herself,  and  was  much  grieved  that  she  could  not 
be  to  this  child  a  mother  in  the  fullest  sense. 
Tolstoy  also  believes  that  it  is  wrong  for  a  wo- 
man to  use  her  physical  charms  to  attract  men 
to  herself,  and  he  therefore  condemns  many  of 
the  usages  of  polite  society.  In  the  "  Kreutzer 
Sonata,"  he  means  to  show  to  young  people,  first, 
the  evil  of  sensual  passion ;  and,  secondly,  how 
the  married  life  may  be  debased  by  that  passion. 
He  does  this  with  his  usual  candor,  thus  making 

275 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

the  story  exceedingly  naturalistic,  and  conse- 
quently unpleasant ;  perhaps  unwholesome ;  but 
he  certainly  is  not  and  does  not  wish  to  be  im- 
pure. 

Nor  does  he  attack  the  family ;  on  the  contrary, 
he  has  always  been  its  strongest  champion,  and 
intends  to  be  that  in  this  much  misunderstood 
book.  The  story  is  told  by  one  Posnyscheff  to  his 
traveling  companion  in  the  railroad  car.  It  is  the 
sad  history  of  his  courtship  and  marriage  and 
their  unhappy  ending.  He  had  tasted  life  after 
the  manner  of  young  men,  and  was  finally  lured 
into  matrimony  by  a  designing  young  girl  who 
used  her  physical  charms  to  great  advantage. 
They  were  married,  but  never  knew  real  happi- 
ness, because  they  were  drawn  toward  each 
other  by  only  the  lowest  desires,  and  were  quickly 
separated  when  these  desires  were  satisfied. 
Their  children  were  unwelcome,  and  were  not 
trained  by  the  parents,  but  left  to  the  care  of 
hirelings.  A  musician,  who  came  into  the  house 
as  a  friend,  charmed  the  wife  by  his  good  looks, 
but  more  by  his  playing  on  the  violin,  and  at  last 
by  his  ardent  professions  of  love.  The  jealousy 
in  PosnyschefFs  breast  grew  from  suspicion  into 

276 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

madness  ;  and  one  night,  returning  from  a  jour- 
ney (which  he  had  undertaken  solely  to  be  able 
to  surprise  his  wife  with  her  paramour),  he  killed 
him,  was  imprisoned,  and  had  time  to  repent  of 
his  deed  as  well  as  of  matrimony.  He  was  con- 
vinced that,  if  he  had  had  as  much  light  upon  the 
subject  before  as  he  had  then,  he  would  never 
have  married ;  and  he  realized  that  Christ's  words, 
"  Whosoever  looketh  on  a  woman  to  lust  after 
her,"  have  their  bearing  not  only  upon  the  wife 
of  another  man,  but  upon  one's  own  wife  also. 
Tolstoy  does  not  prove  by  this  story  that  matri- 
mony is  a  failure,  but  that  the  men  and  women 
who  enter  it  without  the  highest  ideals  before 
them,  make  a  failure  of  it,  and  are  no  better,  and 
sometimes  worse,  after  they  are  married,  than 
they  were  before. 

Countess  Tolstoy  and  her  children  were  not 
pleased  by  the  book,  because  it  was  natural  that 
the  public  should  in  some  way  try  to  connect  the 
story  with  the  author's  life,  which,  in  other  cases, 
it  was  quite  justified  in  doing.  Tolstoy  is  anything 
but  unhappy  in  his  married  life,  and  Countess 
Tolstoy  anything  but  an  impure  woman ;  never- 
theless, he  writes  out  of  his  own  experience  when 

277 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

he  speaks  of  the  base  effects  of  passion  upon  the 
higher  Hf  e.  He  entered  the  married  state  as  he 
would  have  entered  Paradise ;  and  he  deplored 
the  fact  that  he  brought  into  it  so  much  which 
defiled  and  destroyed  its  sacredness  as  well  as  its 
purity.  In  the  "  Kreutzer  Sonata  "  he  did  not  say 
all  he  wished  to  upon  this  subject,  although  many 
people  think  he  said  too  much.  However  that 
may  be,  it  must  be  remembered  that  everything 
he  did  say  he  said  seriously,  and  with  the  simple 
desire  to  tell  the  truth  as  he  saw  it,  and  was  try- 
ing to  live  it.  He  certainly  did  not  give  any  en- 
couragement to  the  libertine,  or  the  free-lover, 
or  any  of  those  sentimentalists  whose  soaring 
emotions  may  be  only  the  stirring  of  the  baser 
passions.  He  believes  in  the  marriage  of  the 
heart ;  by  which  he  means  that  marriage  which 
so  unites  two  souls  that  no  power  on  earth  can 
separate  them.  None  of  those  men  and  women 
who  have  broken  the  chains  of  wedlock,  and  have 
run  away  from  its  responsibilities,  ho  matter  how 
galling  and  heavy  they  have  been,  can  find  a  sylla- 
ble in  all  his  teachings  to  encourage  them.  His 
standard  for  the  married  life  is  the  standard  of 
Jesus,  as  he  interprets  it,  and  is  much  higher  than 

278 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

that  of  the  state  and  of  most  of  the  churches.  He 
would  condemn  the  action  of  those  who  break  the 
marriage  vow,  if  he  did  not  believe  the  words  of 
his  Teacher :  "  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged." 
It  is  the  fashion  to  sneer  at  Tolstoy's  theory 
of  the  higher  wedded  life,  because  his  wife  has 
borne  him  thirteen  children ;  but  if  they  were  born 
out  of  a  pure  love,  as  we  have  every  reason  to 
believe  that  they  were,  he  has  fulfilled  the  first 
condition  which  he  has  marked  out  as  one  of 
the  steps  towards  his  ideal.  Perhaps  he  felt  the 
non-married  state  to  be  the  perfect  one,  because 
in  it  one  can  more  easily  live  as  he  himself  de- 
sired to  live.  "  Happy  man ! "  he  said  of  a  con- 
firmed old  bachelor ;  "  he  can  live  without  hurting 
anybody."  Marriage  and  the  children  have  kept 
Tolstoy  from  making  of  himself  the  completest 
sacrifice,  and  testing  to  its  extreme  the  truth  of 
the  law  of  Jesus.  He  still  thinks  the  martyr's 
death  desirable,  and  now,  with  neither  wife  nor 
children  dependent  upon  him,  he  would  deem  it 
his  greatest  joy  to  suffer  thus.  He  did  consider 
his  family,  —  he  had  to  in  order  to  be  consistent ; 
for  he  could  not  force  any  one  to  live  as  he 
wished  to  live.   His  ideal  —  undesirable,  or  un- 

279 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

attainable,  as  it  is  —  has  this  advantage,  that  the 
steps  which  he  marks  out  toward  reaching  it  are 
both  desirable  and  possible,  and  are  the  greatest 
need  of  our  modern  society. 

Tolstoy's  attitude  toward  women  lacks  all 
the  sentimentality  by  which  he  surrounds  the 
peasant.  He  is  a  realist  in  their  portraiture, 
although  it  never  lacks  the  human  touch  which 
he  gives  to  everything.  The  "  woman  question," 
as  such,  has  no  place  in  his  social  problems,  be- 
cause under  the  law  of  Jesus  "  there  is  neither 
male  nor  female ;"  the  least  is  as  the  highest,  and 
every  one  is  a  servant  to  his  fellow  men.  Upon 
women  in  the  new  spheres  of  activity,  he  looks 
with  the  same  disapproval  as  upon  men  in  similar 
positions ;  contending  that  those  occupations  are 
unwholesome  and  unnecessary. 

Another  matter  upon  which  he  has  been  mis- 
understood is  his  view  of  art.  In  the  "  Kreutzer 
Sonata,"  and  later,  in  his  "What  is  Art?"  he 
attacks  the  sensuality  of  art,  but  not  art  itself, 
which  he  loves  in  all  its  forms.  All  through  his 
life  he  has  felt  its  seductive  power,  and  its  abil- 
ity to  be  made  a  tool  for  the  lowest  instincts ; 
its  capability  of  filling  a  man's  soul  until  there 

280 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

is  room  for  nothing  else,  and  the  possibiHty  of 
its  becoming  his  prayer,  temple,  and  divinity. 
He  also  attacks  its  exclusiveness,  its  expensive- 
ness,  and  its  lack  of  usefulness  in  the  service  of 
the  Master.  The  art  in  which  he  believes  must 
be  able  to  convey  the  highest  emotions  to  those 
who  come  in  contact  with  it ;  these  feelings  must 
not  be  superficial,  base,  or  vague,  and  they  must 
serve  to  bring  men  into  harmony  one  with  an- 
other. Art  must  be  simple  in  form  and  clear  in 
expression ;  so  that  it  needs  no  commentary  or 
interpreter.  It  must  be  the  instrument  which 
conveys  moral  and  religious  truth  from  the  realm 
of  the  mind  to  that  of  the  heart,  and  must 
bring  men  in  touch  with  the  higher  life.  By  this 
standard  he  condemns  the  music  of  Wagner, 
Beethoven's  "Ninth  Symphony,"  and  Goethe's 
"Faust" ;  approving  the  folk-song  of  the  peasant, 
the  Old  Testament  stories,  Schiller's  youthful 
tragedy  "The  Robbers,"  Victor  Hugo's  "Les 
Miserables,"  Dickens's  novels  as  a  whole,  Harriet 
Beecher  Stowe's  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  and  many 
others  of  the  same  class.  Just  as  honestly  as  he 
has  dealt  with  his  life  and  condemned  it  in  the 
light  of  the  truth  which  he  found  later,  just  so 

281 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

he  condemns  the  art  which  he  produced  that 
has  not  these  standards ;  and  as  he  has  changed 
his  method  of  living,  he  has  also  changed  his  aim 
and  method  as  an  artist. 

It  is  not  such  a  barren  world  into  which  he 
has  escaped  and  would  have  the  believers  in 
Christ's  law  to  follow.  His  own  home,  Yasnaya 
Polyana,  is  full  of  music,  not  always  that  which 
he  desires ;  but  men  and  women  bring  to  him 
the  best  they  have,  and  he  enjoys  all  that  finds 
its  way  to  his  heart.  The  silent  rooms  have  often 
been  filled  by  the  sweet,  pure  notes  of  Mozart, 
his  favorite  composer,  whose  masterpieces  he 
plays  himself,  with  the  feeling  and  touch  of  an 
artist.  Whenever  Tolstoy  came  to  Moscow,  he 
could  be  found,  on  Sundays  and  feast-days,  in 
the  "  Maiden  Field,"  the  pleasure-ground  of  the 
common  people,  whose  unbounded  delight  he 
shared,  and  in  the  natural  outpouring  of  whose 
simple  art  he  found  the  type  for  its  highest 
expression.  During  these  winters  he  often 
attended  the  concerts  of  the  Symphony  Or- 
chestra, given  in  the  magnificent  rooms  of  the 
"  Aristocratic  Club,"  and  he  never  hesitated  to 
acknowledge  himself  fearfully  bored ;  especially 

282 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

if  Wagner  dominated  the  programme,  as  has 
frequently  happened  in  late  years.  Although  his 
own  room  is  devoid  of  ornament,  pictures  and 
sculpture  are  not  banished  from  his  home, 
and  he  looks  at  both  in  unfeigned  enjoyment. 
Painters  and  sculptors  belong  to  the  circle  of 
his  most  intimate  friends ;  they  bring  the  pro- 
duct of  chisel  and  brush  for  his  approval,  and 
his  criticisms  are  always  listened  to  reverently, 
although  they  are  not  always  accepted. 

Nearly  everything  which  the  world  prints 
finds  its  way  to  his  study,  and  he  reads  much, 
or  has  the  substance  of  the  books  told  to  him, 
by  some  member  of  his  family.  Towards  the 
new  Russian  literature  he  does  not  feel  very 
sympathetic,  although  it  was  inspired  by  him. 
He  deplores  its  sensuality  and  its  aimlessness, 
but  above  all,  its  lack  of  truthfulness.  And  this 
is  after  all  his  greatest  test  of  art :  Is  it  true  ? 
Does  it  truthfully  reflect  what  men  feel,  think, 
and  do,  or  what  they  ought  to  feel,  think,  and  do? 
The  form  of  art  is  of  little  importance  to  him ; 
it  must  be  sacrificed  to  truth.  For  this  reason 
he  prefers  prose  to  poetry,  without,  however, 
remaining  untouched  by  the  true  masterpieces 

2^3 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

of  verse.  The  writer  has  seen  him  moved  to 
tears  by  the  recital  of  the  simple  Russian  poetry, 
and  has  also  seen  him  enter  sympathetically  into 
the  intricate  art  of  Browning.  He  himself  says 
upon  this  subject :  "  An  author  is  of  value  and  of 
use  to  us  in  the  measure  in  which  he  reveals  to 
us  the  inner  processes  of  his  soul.  Whatever  he 
writes,  be  it  a  drama,  a  learned  thesis,  a  philo- 
sophical discussion,  a  criticism,  or  a  satire,  it  is 
the  revelation  of  the  labor  of  his  soul  which  is 
valuable,  and  not  the  architectural  form  by  which 
he  reveals  it,  .or  very  often  tries  to  conceal  it." 
Toward  the  stage  he  never  felt  very  sympa- 
thetic. In  his  younger  years,  when  he  lived  a 
life  of  pleasure,  the  play  was  only  one  of  the 
means  of  making  it  more  enjoyable ;  but  later, 
life  as  it  was  seemed  tragic  enough,  without 
needing  an  expensive,  and  what  he  thought  an 
immoral  institution  to  represent  it.  Very  sar- 
castically he  describes  a  rehearsal  which  he  at- 
tended somewhere,  and  which  served  to  separate 
him  still  more  widely  from  the  stage.  He  says  : 
"  It  seems  impossible  to  view  a  more  disgusting 
spectacle  than  this.  Everywhere  there  were  work- 
ingmen,  dirty,  tired,  and  in  bad  humor.  On  the 

284 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

stage  were  hundreds  of  painted  and  strangely 
garbed  men  and  scantily  dressed  women.  In 
the  opera  which  they  rehearsed  there  came  a 
procession  of  Hindoos  escorting  a  bride.  She  was 
led  by  an  individual  dressed  like  a  Turk,  who 
opened  his  mouth  in  a  strange  way,  and  sang : 
'I  lead  the  bride,  I  lead  the  bride/  Things 
never  seemed  to  run  smoothly ;  sometimes  the 
Hindoos  with  their  spears  came  too  late,  some- 
times too  soon;  seldom  in  time.  Then  some- 
thing happened  which  made  the  director  swear 
like  a  cab-driver.  Over  and  over  again  the  Turk 
sang  :  '  I  lead  the  bride.'  Once  more  the  Hin- 
doos came,  with  their  glittering  spears,  and  again 
things  were  not  right,  and  again  there  were 
curses,  and  again  the  Turk  began :  *I  lead  the 
bride.'  Such  a  rehearsal  lasts  five  or  six  hours ; 
the  beating  with  a  cane,  the  repetitions,  the  cor- 
rections of  singers  and  orchestra,  the  processions 
and  dances,  all  of  it  is  well  seasoned  by  terrible 
oaths.  Forty  times,  at  least,  I  heard  the  words 
donkey,  fool,  idiot,  and  hag,  which  were  applied 
to  singers  and  musicians  alike ;  and  all  of  them 
listened  patiently,  and  marched  again  and  again, 
and  danced  over  and  over,  and  the  Turk  sang 

285 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

for  the  fortieth  time,  '  I  lead  the  bride/  The 
director  knows  that  these  people  are  so  ruined 
that  they  are  not  fit  for  any  other  thing  but  to 
blow  a  horn  or  to  march  over  the  stage  like 
fools,  scantily  dressed,  with  spears  and  yellow 
slippers ;  but  he  also  knows  that  they  enjoy  this 
lazy  life,  and  would  rather  bear  anything  than 
to  leave  it,  and  seek  a  more  honest  way  of  mak- 
ing a  living."  Not  a  much  less  repulsive  feeling 
was  engendered  in  Tolstoy  when  listening  to  one 
of  Wagner's  operas ;  and  he  went  away  vowing 
not  to  attend  another  performance.  He  was 
nearly  sixty  years  of  age  when  he  began  to  re- 
alize that  he  might  use  the  stage  for  the  con- 
veyance of  his  teachings.  Especially  during  the 
now  of  ten  repeated  attacks  of  illness  did  he  seri- 
ously think  of  writing  a  drama.  He  saw  the  char- 
acters acting  the  play  before  him ;  and,  judging 
from  the  production,  it  must  have  been  a  decid- 
edly unpleasant  experience.  Never  before  has 
Russian  peasant  life  been  painted  in  such  abso- 
lutely black  colors ;  and  perhaps  there  is  no  drama 
in  existence  which  surpasses  his  in  describing 
the  base  in  human  nature.  In  his  first  play,  the 
sub-title,  "  When  the  Claw  is  in  the  Trap,  the 

286 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Whole  Bird  is  soon  lost,"  gives  a  clearer  idea  of 
the  moral  import  of  it  than  "  The  Power  of  Dark* 
ness,"  the  name  by  which  we  know  the  play.  It 
is  taken  entirely  from  peasant  life,  which  is  por- 
trayed with  marvelous  fidelity.  The  mujik  is  not 
in  the  least  idealized,  and  we  see  him  in  all  his 
coarseness,  crudeness,  ignorance,  superstition,  and 
brutality.  Nikita,  the  hero,  steps  from  one  sin 
into  the  other ;  he  seduces  the  orphan  Marina, 
and  casts  her  from  him  most  cruelly,  because 
she  is  poor.  He  betrays  his  master,  the  peasant 
Pyotr,  with  whose  wife  he  has  entered  into  un- 
lawful relations,  and  he  helps  her  to  put  her 
husband  out  of  the  way  by  poisoning  him.  Then 
they  marry,  after  which  he  drinks  to  excess, 
and  neglects  her  for  her  step-daughter,  whose 
relations  with  him  do  not  remain  without  con- 
sequences. The  darkness  into  which  all  the 
characters  wrap  themselves  becomes  gruesome ; 
and  the  murder  of  the  newly  bom  infant  ren- 
ders the  situation  unendurable.  While  its  wail 
is  still  in  the  air,  its  mother  is  about  to  be 
married  to  a  lad,  with  whom  this  union  has 
been  arranged,  without  his  knowing  the  dis- 
honor and  crime  which  are  attached  to   her 

287 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

and  her  family.  Nikita's  conscience,  however, 
awakens ;  he  leaves  the  merry  wedding  guests, 
and  in  the  bam  attempts  to  commit  suicide. 
His  wife  and  mother,  who  have  been  his  accom- 
plices, and  who  are  both  weak  and  bad,  find 
him,  and  chide  him  for  not  making  ready  to  go 
to  the  church,  where  the  marriage  ceremony 
is  to  take  place.  Finding  him  obstinate,  they 
threaten  him ;  but  before  all  the  wedding  guests, 
he  falls  upon  his  knees,  and,  encouraged  by  his 
father,  "  makes  a  clean  breast "  of  the  matter, 
and  goes  to  prison  with  a  light  heart.  Those  who 
read  the  play  in  the  translation,  or  see  it  enacted 
on  a  foreign  stage,  lose  much  of  its  spirit  and 
its  truly  Russian  flavor.  For  instance,  on  the 
Russian  stage,  when  the  woman  comes  in  to  get 
a  cross  to  put  upon  the  child's  neck  before  it  is 
murdered,  the  audience  feels  her  chief  sin,  which 
is  hypocrisy,  and  Tolstoy  makes  his  point;  but 
upon  a  foreign  stage,  this  act  invariably  creates 
merriment,  which  certainly  it  was  not  meant 
to  do.  Dark  and  dreadful  as  the  drama  is,  it 
meets  the  requirement  of  Tolstoy's  ideas  of  art, 
and  tries  to  speak  powerfully  to  both  the  emo- 
tions and  the  conscience.  For  the  women  in  the 

288 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

play,  who  are  worse  than  the  men,  he  finds  this 
apology,  uttered  by  the  old  servant,  Nitrisch : 
"  There  are  millions  and  millions  of  you  women 
and  girls,  and  you  are  all  like  the  beasts  of  the 
forest.  You  grow  up  and  die,  and  see  nothing 
and  hear  nothing;  you  know  nothing  of  God, 
and  you  are  like  blind  dogs,  crawling  along  on 
your  way."  The  men  see  and  know  something ; 
they  go  to  town  and  to  the  inn,  and  they  come 
in  touch  with  life,  poor  as  it  may  be.  As  a 
pathetic  picture  of  the  condition  of  the  Russian 
peasant,  this  play  surpasses  anything  which  Tol- 
stoy has  written.  It  is  repellent  when  one  reads 
it,  and  becomes  positively  disgusting  when  seen 
on  the  stage.  It  destroys  the  idea  of  the  essential 
goodness  of  simple  people,  who  are  supposed  to 
be  spoiled  only  as  they  are  touched  by  modem 
culture ;  for  these  peasants,  far  away  from  every- 
thing which  is  modem,  surpass  in  brutality  and 
absolute  viciousness  all  that  we  know  of  such 
characteristics  among  civilized  people. 

A  play  which  is  a  keen  satire  upon  society, 
and  in  which  Tolstoy  contrasts  the  life  of  the 
common  people  with  that  of  the  so-called  edu- 
cated classes,  was  written  shortly  after  this 

289 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

drama ;  and  those  who  accuse  him  of  a  lack  of 
humor  ought  to  see  a  Russian  audience  con- 
vulsed by  laughter  at  its  presentation.  In  the 
play,  which  is  called  "The  Fruits  of  Modern 
Culture,"  peasants  come  to  town  to  buy  a  piece 
of  land  from  their  lord.  They  are  astonished  by 
everything  they  see  and  cannot  quite  comprehend 
all  its  meaning.  The  count  is  deep  in  spiritualism, 
and  sees  and  hears  ghosts  everywhere.  His  wife, 
who  has  been  told  that  diphtheria  is  epidemic  in 
the  village  from  which  the  peasants  come,  has  the 
room  in  which  they  are  disinfected  by  ill-smell- 
ing drugs.  The  poor  mujiks  cannot  understand 
how  they  can  be  full  of  insects  which  they  them- 
selves cannot  see.  The  daughter  of  their  lord 
hammers  the  piano  all  day.  The  son  belongs  to 
various  clubs  and  societies,  and  is  now  especially 
interested  in  the  "Society  for  the  Culture  of 
Long-haired  Greyhounds."  The  peasants  hear  in 
astonishment  that  the  lady  has  herself  tightly 
laced  each  day,  that  her  dog  wears  a  costly  coat 
in  winter,  and  that  he  gets  a  specially  prepared 
cutlet  for  each  meal. 

Unfortunately,  the  satire  is  too  sharp,  and  the 
caricature  too  broad ;    but  the  play  delights 

290 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Russian  audiences,  without  making  much  im- 
pression upon  those  persons  who  partake  of 
these  pecuhar  "  fruits  of  culture."  It  was  given 
before  the  czar  in  Zarskoye  Selo,  his  summer 
residence;  the  different  characters  were  repre- 
sented by  members  of  the  royal  household,  and 
the  audience  was  composed  of  the  very  people 
at  whom  the  author's  sharpest  arrows  were 
aimed. 

A  third  play,  written  shortly  after  this  one, 
is  called  "The  Whisky  Distiller,"  and  is  much 
less  a  play  than  a  tract  against  the  manu- 
facture of  liquor  and  the  use  of  it;  as  such 
it  has  been  a  very  great  help  in  Russian  soci- 
ety of  all  classes.  As  literary  productions,  all 
of  Tolstoy's  plays  are  inferior  to  any  other 
form  of  his  writings,  and  one  feels  that  he  has 
come  to  the  drama  too  late  in  life.  He  has  never 
been  in  sympathetic  relation  with  the  stage  and 
its  actors,  or  with  anything  that  is  connected 
with  the  presentation  of  the  drama.  His  aver- 
sion to  it  is  best  illustrated  by  his  offhand  judg- 
ment of  the  "Passion  Play"  at  Oberammergau. 
The  writer  came  to  Yasnaya  Polyana,  from  the 
Bavarian  Mountains,  where  he  had  been  much 

291 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

uplifted  by  seeing  it.  "What  can  there  be 
beautiful  about  it?"  Tolstoy  said,  rather  sharply. 
"  I  should  not  care  to  see  a  fat  peasant  hanging 
on  a  cross.  I  should  think  it  rather  repulsive." 
And  the  narrator  was  checked  in  his  enthusiastic 
description. 


292 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

TOLSTOY'S    LITERARY    ACTIVITIES   AT  THE    CLOSE 
OP  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY 

Turgenieff's  wish,  that  Tolstoy  should  return 
to  the  art  which  he  had  forsaken,  was  to  be  ful- 
filled. Gradually  he  worked  his  way  back  to  its 
height,  through  his  shorter  stories ;  such  as  "The 
Death  of  Ivan  Ilyitsch,"  "Walk  in  the  Light, 
while  ye  have  the  Light,"  and  so,  to  his  last  great 
work,  "The  Resurrection."  The  first  of  these 
sketches  is  that  of  a  simple  and  common  every- 
day life ;  yet  it  is  a  terrible  tragedy  which  takes 
place  in  the  conscience  of  the  man,  as  he  begins 
to  feel  approaching  decay  and  death.  With  mar- 
velous skill  Tolstoy  pictures  the  emotions  in  his 
breast,  from  the  moment  when  his  apprehensions 
begin  until  they  end  in  despair.  The  lies  which 
are  told  to  the  man  by  his  physician,  as  well  as 
by  the  members  of  his  family,  add  greatly  to  his 
torture,  which  is  not  eased  until  a  simple  peasant 
boy  tells  him  the  truth :  "  We  must  all  die,  Mas- 

293 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

ter."  His  whole  life  passes  in  review  before  him, 
and  realizing  that  it  was  wrong,  he  repents, 
the  fear  of  death  leaves  him  as  he  bravely 
faces  it,  and,  "in  place  of  death  there  was  light" 
The  second  story,  which  is  the  only  one  in 
which  Tolstoy  reaches  far  back  into  history  for 
his  plot,  is  that  of  two  men  living  at  the  time 
of  Trajan:  Pamphilius,  who  becomes  a  Christian, 
and  finds  in  the  law  of  Jesus  the  happiness  of 
his  life ;  and  Julius,  his  friend,  who  is  of  the 
world,  and  suffers  disappointment  after  disap- 
pointment, in  his  business,  in  his  own  life,  and 
in  the  life  of  his  son.  Crushed  by  adversity, 
he  seeks  Pamphilius,  accepts  Christianity,  lives 
twenty  happy  years,  and  passes  into  eternity  with- 
out fearing  death  when  it  comes  upon  him.  Tol- 
stoy's own  feelings  had  much  to  do  with  the 
theme  of  these  stories;  for  old  age  had  crept 
upon  him,  and  he  had  more  than  once  faced  the 
great  inevitable  end.  "  What  does  it  mean,"  he 
writes  at  this  time,  "that  life  is  going?  That  the 
hair  falls  out,  the  teeth  decay,  and  the  face  is 
covered  by  wrinkles?  —  Everything  grows  ugly 
and  terrible,  while  the  things  I  once  loved,  I  abhor. 
There  must  be  a  beauty  of  real  life,  a  beauty 

294 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

which  cannot  thus  fade  away."  Countess  Tolstoy 
also  writes  at  this  time  that  her  husband  is  grow- 
ing gray,  that  he  is  much  changed,  and  that  he  is 
quite  silent.  Those  who  had  not  seen  him  for  a 
decade  noticed  all  this ;  but  also  realized  that  in 
spite  of  the  wrinkled  face  and  gray  hair,  he  had 
gained  a  new  beauty.  The  features,  so  unsym- 
metrical  and  roughly  hewn,  were  smoothed  over 
by  tenderness;  the  gray  eyes  were  less  piercing 
and  kindlier;  for  the  effect  of  his  new  life  was 
written  upon  his  countenance.  There  was  also 
about  him,  what  one  had  always  missed;  that 
certain  something  which  we  call  a  spiritual  at- 
mosphere. He  was  weaker  physically ;  but  there 
was  still  a  mental  power  which  was  remarkable, 
and  was  to  manifest  itself  in  his  "Resurrection," 
a  story  which  shows  all  the  virility  of  his  youth, 
surprising  his  friends  and  dismaying  his  enemies. 
Never  before,  in  the  history  of  Russian  letters, 
had  it  happened  that  an  author  was  permitted  to 
print  in  a  journal  which  had  about  two  hundred 
thousand  readers,  a  story  which  so  unmercifully 
condemned  the  fundamental  ideas  of  Church  and 
State  as  did  this  one  of  Tolstoy.  It  seemed  as 
if  the  censor  had  been  hypnotized  ;  because  the 

295 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

story,  even  as  it  finally  passed  his  scrutinizing 
eyes,  had  in  it  all  that  Tolstoy  said  about  the  farce 
which  is  played  in  Russian  courts  in  the  name  of 
Justice,  and  his  dangerous  theory  of  giving  all 
the  land  to  the  peasantry.  In  fact,  the  govern- 
ment traced  certain  revolts  to  these  ideas,  which 
had  gone  among  the  peasants ;  and  when  they 
were  asked  why  they  had  rebelled,  they  replied : 
"Tolstoy  said  that  the  land  belongs  to  us." 

Prince  Dimitry  Necklyudoff  is,  again,  the  hero 
of  the  story.  In  the  home  of  his  aunt  he  meets 
Katyuska,  a  charming  girl,  who  is  something  be- 
tween a  servant  and  a  daughter  of  the  house, 
and  whom  he  loves  in  an  innocent  way,  she  re- 
ciprocating his  affection.  After  a  number  of 
years,  he  returns  as  an  officer  and  man  of  the 
world,  whose  heart  and  soul  have  been  spoiled, 
and  ruins  Katyuska,  forgetting  her  as  soon  as  duty 
calls  him  into  the  service.  She  is  driven  from  the 
house  as  soon  as  his  aunt  becomes  aware  of  the 
consequences  of  his  affection,  and  sinks  lower  and 
lower,  until  she  becomes  an  inmate  of  a  brothel. 
Being  suspected  of  having  poisoned  a  rich  mer- 
chant, she  is  arrested,  brought  before  the  court, 
and  sentenced  to  banishment.  Necklyudoff,  her 

296 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

betrayer,  is  chairman  of  the  jury.  Recognizing 
her,  he  becomes  conscious  of  his  guilt,  and  tries  to 
make  reparation.  He  wishes  to  marry  her,  and 
offers  to  share  her  punishment ;  but  she  is  deaf 
to  his  entreaties,  and  incapable  of  reciprocating 
the  noble  feeling  which  prompts  him  to  make 
this  self-sacrificing  offer.  Slowly,  by  enduring 
with  her  the  privations  of  the  prison,  and  by 
helping  and  protecting  the  many  victims  of  Rus- 
sian injustice,  he  is  able  to  awaken  in  her  sparks 
of  her  first,  noble  love.  In  vain  he  appeals  from 
court  to  court,  and,  finally,  to  the  senate,  to  have 
her  sentence  revoked  ;  and  after  exhausting  all 
the  means  at  his  command,  he  prepares  to  go 
with  Katyuska  to  Siberia.  He  divides  his  land 
among  his  serfs,  and  clad  in  rough,  peasant  garb, 
traveling  third-class  on  the  railway,  he  discovers 
a  new  world  ;  the  world  of  the  honest,  hard-work- 
ing mujik.  He  follows  Katyuska  from  one  prison 
station  to  another,  and  at  last  is  able  to  present 
to  her  the  pardon  granted  by  the  czar.  An  exile 
and  prisoner,  like  herself,  a  rather  remarkable 
man,  has  offered  to  marry  Katyuska,  who  accepts 
him,  knowing  that  Necklyudoff 's  life  would  be 
ruined  if  she  permitted  him  to  chain  it  to  hers. 

297 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

He  knows  that  she  loves  him,  and  that  she  is 
making  this  sacrifice  because  of  the  purity  of  her 
affections ;  although  she  has  tried  to  hide  from 
him  the  real  cause  of  her  decision.  Returning 
to  his  hotel,  he  is  burdened  by  thoughts  of  the 
evil  he  has  seen  in  the  prisons  during  his  jour- 
ney through  Siberia.  He  turns  to  his  New  Testa- 
ment, which  was  given  him  by  an  Englishman 
who  was  visiting  the  convicts,  and,  in  reading  it, 
is  filled  by  the  thought  that  he  must  not  judge, 
but  have  the  forgiving  spirit,  even  toward  those 
who  had  so  cruelly  treated  him  and  his  compan- 
ions. Finally,  the  words  of  Jesus,  "Seek  ye  first 
the  Kingdom  of  God  and  His  righteousness," 
convince  him  of  the  false  philosophy  of  his  life, 
and  he  determines  to  seek  that  which  alone  can 
be  found.  With  that  night  began  his  new  life ; 
"because  everything  which  happened  to  him 
after  this  had  a  better  and  a  higher  meaning." 

Both  the  hero  and  the  heroine  have  their  resur- 
rection. He,  from  a  meaningless  and  sinful  life 
in  the  higher  circles  to  a  repentance  which  tried 
to  make  immediate  and  definite  reparation,  and 
finally,  to  true  life  through  his  obedience  to  the 
words  of  Jesus.  The  heroine  had  her  resurrec- 

298 


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COUNTESS  TOLSTOY  AND  THE  YOUNGER   CHILDREN 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

tion,  from  a  low  and  base  life,  into  which  she 
had  fallen  through  the  guilt  of  another,  to  noble 
feelings  which  she  had  long  forgotten,  and  to 
which  she  was  awakened  by  the  same  man's 
kindliness  and  gentleness.  The  story  shows  how 
powerful,  still,  when  Tolstoy  wrote  it,  were  his 
artistic  as  well  as  his  critical  faculties.  With 
what  gigantic  strength  he  tore  away  the  cover- 
ing of  modem  society!  How  he  probed  the 
wounds  of  Church  and  State,  until  banishment 
was  threatened,  and  excommunication  pro- 
nounced upon  him!  With  what  childlike  joy 
he  draws  in  the  beauties  of  the  spring,  and  with 
what  prophetic  insight  he  shows  the  discord 
among  men !  Like  a  John  the  Baptist,  he  lays 
the  ax  "  to  the  root  of  the  tree ; "  but  with  the 
gentleness  of  his  great  Master  he  preaches  pity 
and  compassion  for  the  poor,  love  and  faith,  as 
forces  for  the  redemption  of  men.  It  is,  no 
doubt,  his  noblest  story ;  and  were  it  not  that  he 
went  so  far  down  for  his  material,  using  it  with- 
out gloss,  it  might  have  been  one  of  the  finest 
productions  of  modern  literature.  His  pity  for 
those  who  suffer  through  the  guilt  of  others  is 
as  great  as  his  hate  for  their  oppressors,  and  as 

299 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

is  his  contempt  for  their  self-sufficiency  and 
complacency.  The  language  in  this  story  is,  if 
possible,  clearer  and  more  definite  than  in  any 
of  his  other  works.  There  is  not  a  wasted  word ; 
the  aim  is  direct  and  sure,  and  the  reader  imme- 
diately becomes  conscious  of  the  fact  that  he  is 
in  touch  with  one  who  is  not  a  mere  story-teller. 
There  is  no  playing  with  certain  theories  and 
maxims ;  but  almost  a  violent  outcry,  exposing 
the  lowest  depths  of  human  nature,  the  most 
hidden  secrets  of  society,  and  calling  men  to  a 
"Resurrection,"  through  a  pure,  devoted,  self- 
sacrificing,  and  simple  life.  Tolstoy  was  very  sad 
and  unhappy  when  he  wrote  certain  parts  of 
this  story ;  he  felt  himself  insulted  in  his  inner- 
most being  by  the  common  sins  of  uncommon 
men.  At  the  same  time  he  knew  that  he  was 
once  like  them.  He  saw  the  nobility  of  men  in 
most  ignoble  circumstances;  in  their  dirt  and 
degradation,  behind  thick  prison  walls,  and  even 
in  the  lowest  brothels.  That  he  told  the  truth, 
no  one  doubts  and  no  one  has  denied.  The  Rus- 
sian courts  and  the  Russian  prisons  are  just 
what  he  says  they  are ;  for  he  did  not  get  his 
material  from  hearsay,  or  from  the  Imperial 

300 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Library,  as  is  the  custom  of  those  who  praise  in 
books  and  lectures  Russia's  humane  treatment 
of  prisoners.  He  went  to  the  prisons  himself ; 
and  no  one  will  ever  quite  know  how  far  he 
went,  —  not  to  get  material  for  his  story,  but 
to  come  near  to  his  brothers  and  sisters,  and  if 
possible  make  some  reparation  for  his  own  sins. 
What  pleased  him  most  after  the  publication 
of  the  "  Resurrection,"  was  first,  and  above  all, 
its  moral  effect.  From  nearly  every  European 
city  came  letters  from  men  who  cried  out :  "  We 
are  sinners,"  and  who  asked  the  way  to  their 
"  resurrection."  It  was  the  writer's  privilege  to 
come  with  such  messages  from  Vienna  and 
Buda-Pesth,  two  of  the  worst  cities  in  Europe,  in 
which  numbers  of  men  said  to  him :  "Tell  Tolstoy 
that  we  shall  never  again  think  so  ill  of  women 
as  we  have  thought."  His  face  brightened  when 
these  words  were  repeated  to  him ;  and  in  them 
he  found  his  true  reward.  "Resurrection"  was 
the  first  book  which  for  many  years  he  had 
written  for  revenue,  and  that  not  for  himself, 
but  for  the  unfortunate  Duchoborz,  who  had  left 
their  native  land  and  had  found  a  home  in  the 
far  northwest  of  Canada.   His  intervention,  and 

301 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

the  proceeds  of  this  story,  saved  hundreds  of 
people  from  being  exterminated  by  the  Russian 
government,  and  from  starving  to  death  upon 
the  cold  plains  of  the  Province  of  Manitoba. 
Tolstoy  refused  all  other  aid  so  freely  offered 
him  for  these  unfortunates  ;  preferring  to  throw 
them  upon  their  own  resources,  to  save  them 
from  what  he  considered  a  greater  evil :  the  evil 
of  pauperism. 

He  did  not  cease  to  be  a  preacher  and  teacher, 
because  he  had  written  another  great  story ;  for 
with  the  echoes  of  its  success  still  in  his  ears,  he 
began  writing  an  indictment  against  the  modern 
movement  of  Social  Democracy,  which  was  pub- 
lished under  the  title,  "  Modem  Slavery."  The 
writer  was  in  Yasnaya  Polyana  while  it  was 
being  written,  and  had  its  theories  practiced  on 
him  during  those  walks  which  are  so  dear  to  all 
who  visit  there.  On  one  of  those  evenings, 
as  he  and  Tolstoy  were  watching  the  setting  sun, 
the  writer,  having  spoken  of  his  own  faith  in  a 
future  life,  ventured  to  ask  :  "  Count,  what  about 
the  future?  I  mean  the  future  of  humanity. 
What  will  be  the  ultimate  form  of  society?" 
"The  future,"  he  answered,  "is  with  God  to 

302 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

know,  and  for  us  to  prepare.  Our  business  is  to 
live  right,  now,  and  God  will  make  all  things 
right,  then."  His  remark  about  socialism  was 
startling.  "  The  greatest  enemy  to  humanity  is 
this  Social  Democracy ;  it  is  the  preparation  for 
a  new  slavery.  It  teaches  a  future  good,  without 
a  present  betterment.  It  promises  golden  streets, 
without  the  bloody  Gethsemane."  "But  isn't 
socialism  a  preparation  for  an  ideal  state?" 
"  No,  indeed  not.  It  is  just  the  contrary.  It  will 
regulate  everything,  put  everything  under  law, 
it  will  destroy  the  individual,  it  will  enslave  him. 
Socialism  begins  at  the  wrong  end.  You  cannot 
organize  anything  until  you  have  individuals; 
you  are  making  chaos  out  of  cosmos ;  you  will 
breed  terrorism  and  confusion,  which  only  brute 
force  will  be  able  to  quell.  Socialism  begins  to 
regulate  the  world  away  from  itself.  You  must 
make  yourself  right,  before  the  world  around  you 
can  he  made  right  No  matter  how  wrongly  the 
world  deals  with  you,  if  you  are  right  the  world 
will  not  harm  you  and  you  may  bring  it  to  your 
way  of  thinking.  The  modern  labor  leader 
v/ishes  to  liberate  the  masses,  while  he  himself 
is  a  slave."  A  few  weeks  before  this,  Tolstoy 

303 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

had  received  a  deputation  of  workingmen  from 
the  neighboring  city  of  Tula;  men  who  had  be- 
come infected  by  socialistic  ideas,  and  he 
preached  the  same  sermon  to  them.  They  went 
away  much  discouraged,  but  not  convinced  of 
the  error  of  their  ways.  It  was  not  easy  to  leave 
him,  unconvinced ;  for  while  he  spoke,  his  eyes 
rested  firmly  upon  one,  and  his  sentences  came 
unbroken,  like  water  from  a  flowing  spring.  His 
sermon,  for  such  it  always  was,  awakened  in  one 
the  consciousness,  the  holiness,  and  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  self.  He  magnified  the  value  of  the 
soul,  and  minimized  the  value  of  the  things  of 
which  the  socialists  had  spoken;  the  lack  of 
comforts  and  luxuries.  He  felt  all  the  wrong 
which  they  were  suffering,  but  he  insisted  that 
they  themselves  must  be  right,  "  be  born  again." 
How  often  these  words  resounded  among  the 
towering  oaks  which  shade  his  customary  walk. 
"You  must  deny  yourself,  —  give  up,  —  re- 
nounce, —  sacrifice, — and  obey  only  the  Christ." 
To  all  the  philosophy  which  one  quoted,  he  would 
say  abruptly,  "That  is  not  the  law  of  Jesus." 
He  would  never  grow  angry;  but  he  spoke 
firmly,  like  one  who  was  convinced  that  he  alone 

304 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

had  the  truth.  At  that  time  he  also  wrote  an 
open  letter  on  the  subject  of  patriotism,  and 
addressed  to  the  czar.  He  sent  it  to  a  Moscow 
paper  for  publication,  but  of  course  it  was 
promptly  returned,  and  was  afterwards  published 
in  London.  It  elaborates  his  well-known  theory 
of  the  evil  of  so-called  patriotism,  condemns  the 
killing  of  countless  numbers  of  men  at  the  com- 
mand of  the  czar,  and,  not  in  unkind  language, 
calls  his  majesty  a  murderer ;  not  less  a  mur- 
derer than  the  men  who,  crazed  by  some  fantas- 
tic idea,  lift  their  hands  against  a  king,  and  slay 
him. 

Tolstoy's  fame  was  beginning  to  reach  the 
masses,  among  whom  discontent  had  manifested 
itself,  and  they  were  looking  to  him  as  the  cham- 
pion of  their  rights.  The  following  letter  which 
he  received  is  interesting,  because  it  testifies  to 
this  growing  feeling,  and  because  it  graphically 
and  truthfully  pictures  the  condition  of  the 
peasantry :  — 

Most  Gracious  Sir,  our  defender  and  protector : 

We  kneel  before  you,  weeping  hot  and  bitter 

tears,  and  pray  that  you  may  not  leave  us ;  even 

305 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

as  a  father  does  not  leave  his  children.  We  want 
to  tell  you  how  the  authorities  are  treating  those 
of  us  who  have  become  Sectarians.  ,The  police 
of  the  whole  district  have  come,  and  they  go 
at  night  from  one  house  to  another,  cursing,  and 
frightening  the  women  and  children.  Wherever 
there  was  a  soul  which  had  cut  itself  loose  from 
the  Church,  there  the  police  came,  and  settled 
down,  often  six  or  eight  of  them,  and  ate  and 
drank.  They  asked  for  eggs,  milk,  and  butter, 
but  paid  for  nothing.  The  housewife  had  to 
serve  them,  and  stand  before  them  while  they 
were  eating.  They  beat  old  women  who  were 
too  feeble  to  wait  upon  them.  They  asked  for 
horse  and  wagon,  and  if  any  one  refused,  he  was 
beaten  most  unmercifully.  The  Sectarians  were 
driven  out  of  one  village  by  the  other  inhabit- 
ants, because  of  the  continued  persecution  on 
the  part  of  the  authorities.  The  peasants  who 
wanted  to  help  these  persecuted  people  were 
themselves  persecuted  and  fined. 

We  pray  that  a  man  may  be  found  who  could 
tell  our  woe  with  such  a  loud  voice  that  it  might 
be  heard  in  Heaven ;  because  we  cannot  do  it 
ourselves.  They  press  our  throats,  so  that  we 

306 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

cannot  even  talk  in  a  whisper.  Letters  are  not 
sent  to  us,  or  from  us,  and  we  are  completely 
isolated  from  the  world.  The  officials  have  grown 
so  violent  that  after  the  czar  had  pardoned 
eleven  women,  they  refused  to  sell  them  railroad 
tickets  at  Charkoff ;  so  they  had  to  walk,  carrying 
their  little  children  in  their  arms.  After  twenty 
miles,  they  succumbed;  and  only  through  the 
intervention  of  a  charitable  woman  did  they 
finally  get  transportation  to  their  homes.  If 
only  some  one  would  help  us,  who  are  suffering 
such  great  misfortunes !  — some  one  who  would 
be  led  by  the  Spirit,  and  who  could  fly  like  a  bird 
through  the  whole  world,  and  proclaim  to  it  our 
great  woe. 

The  world  did  hear ;  but  not  the  Russian 
world,  for  its  ears  and  eyes  were  closed  by  the 
censor ;  and  the  peasants  who  wrote  this  letter 
suffered  severely ;  for  it  is  still  forbidden  in 
Russia  to  complain  audibly.  Tolstoy's  fame  as 
a  champion  of  the  people's  rights,  and  as  their 
helper  in  need,  dates  from  his  remarkable  effort 
in  their  behalf,  when  in  the  year  1891-92,  he 
was  the  leading  spirit  in  relieving  the  distress 

307 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

caused  by  the  famine.  Money  and  helpers  came 
to  him  from  all  parts  of  Europe  and  America ; 
and  his  leadership  was  as  successful  in  this  phil- 
anthropic movement  as  had  been  his  reluctance 
to  undertake  it.  He  traveled,  in  the  depth  of 
winter,  from  village  to  village,  organizing  relief 
societies,  and  establishing  soup-kitchens,  which 
were  the  means  of  keeping  millions  of  peasants 
from  starvation.  The  closing  winter  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  Tolstoy  spent  in  the  Crimea, 
carried  there  because  of  his  severe  illness ;  his 
friends  hoping  much  for  him  from  the  mild  cli- 
mate of  Russians  Riviera.  There  he  lived  again 
his  eventful  youth.  His  literary  career  seemed 
past,  his  health  was  failing,  and  although  the 
fine  climate  permitted  him  to  recuperate  to  some 
extent,  he  returned  to  Yasnaya  Polyana  the  next 
spring,  an  old  man,  who  was  waiting  for  "one 
fight  more ;  the  best  and  the  last." 


308 


CHAPTER  XIX 

TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Some  time  ago  one  of  the  most  widely  circulated 
German  journals  sent  requests  to  its  readers  to 
name  the  most  celebrated  ten  living  men.  Tol- 
stoy was  given  the  first  place  by  hundreds  of 
votes ;  and  there  was  scarcely  a  list  sent  in  from 
which  his  name  was  omitted.  The  same  thing,  it  is 
reported,  was  done  in  France  with  very  much  the 
same  result.  This  kind  of  tribunal  may  be  worth 
much  or  little,  nevertheless  it  indicates  the  fact 
that  among  living  men  there  is  none  whose  name 
is  more  widely  known  than  that  of  Tolstoy.  His 
books  have  been  translated  into  all  the  languages 
spoken  among  civilized  people ;  and  a  recent  and 
somewhat  inaccurate  compilation  of  the  books 
and  articles  to  be  classed  under  "  Tolstoyana," 
numbers  more  than  four  thousand.  Of  course 
the  number  of  books  written  by  him  and  about 
him  indicates  nothing  beyond  the  fact  that  he 
is  a  voluminous  writer,  and  that  he  has  aroused 

309 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

much  critical  comment  among  men.  He  is  known 
beyond  the  reach  of  his  writings,  among  millions 
of  peasants  who  cannot  read  ;  and  among  count- 
less numbers  of  all  classes  who  have  never  had  the 
opportunity  or  taste  to  read  anything  that  he  has 
written.  Into  the  obscurest  comers  of  the  earth 
has  his  fame  gone,  and  one  is  startled  by  seeing 
how  instantly  his  name  awakens  interest  and 
provokes  comment  and  discussion.  To  some,  he 
is,  like  Isaiah,  a  great  prophet  who  has  again 
brought  to  men  the  first  true  notes  of  religion ; 
or  a  John  the  Baptist,  the  forerunner  of  a  new 
kingdom.  To  others  again  he  is  the  veritable 
Anti-Christ ;  his  teachings  destructive  of  Chris- 
tianity and  void  of  what  they  call  true  religion. 
Some,  again,  consider  him  a  man,  half  lunatic, 
who  has  perverted  his  art  and  misused  his  grand 
opportunity  of  giving  to  the  world  great  novels ; 
while  others  talk  of  him  as  a  shrewd  poseur,  who 
has  increased  the  sale  of  his  books  by  studied 
oddities  and  eccentricities.  But  no  matter  what 
men  call  him,  they  all  agree  that  he  is  a  won- 
derful personality  whose  influence  has  permeated 
civilized  society;  and  even  his  severest  critics 
have  felt  this  influence  although  they  may  have 

310 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

studiously  avoided  reading  his  books.  It  seems 
as  if  great  thoughts  become  an  atmosphere  which 
men  must  breathe  in,  whether  they  choose  to  do 
so  or  not ;  and  in  spite  of  themselves  they  begin 
to  think  those  thoughts  even  if  they  do  not  im- 
mediately act  upon  them.  Tolstoy's  feelings  or 
something  like  them  have  come  to  many  an  offi- 
cer in  the  Russian  army,  who  had  fought,  gam- 
bled, and  drunk,  and  who  suddenly  asked  himself: 
"  Have  I  been  doing  right  ? ''  and  some  evening 
he  would  communicate  his  thoughts  to  a  com- 
panion, swearing  him  to  secrecy,  and  he  would 
reply:  "I  have  been  thinking  the  same  thing; 
this  is  not  life,  this  is  death ; "  and  the  next  day 
they  would  resign  their  commissions  and  be 
declared  "  Tolstoy  mad  "  because  they  began  to 
earn  their  bread  by  the  sweat  of  their  brows. 
Many  a  judge  who  arrogantly  meted  out  so- 
called  justice  to  his  fellow  men,  saw  a  "  hand- 
writing on  the  wall :"  "Judge  not  that  ye  be  not 
judged,"  and  stepped  from  his  bench,  among  the 
culprits.  Legislators  and  officials  in  our  own 
country  have  felt  this  influence  in  a  similar  way ; 
and  at  least  one  place,  the  city  of  Toledo,  is  gov- 
erned by  a  mayor  who  acknowledges  himself 

311 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Tolstoy's  disciple.  Little  villages  are  named,  of 
whose  existence  he  does  not  even  know,  in 
which  households  are  governed  by  the  law  of 
Jesus ;  and  the  number  of  wealthy  manufacturers 
who  have  been  influenced  by  him  in  the  treat- 
ment of  their  employees  is  larger  than  one  would 
imagine.  Among  many  he  is  a  "  fad,"  which 
however  cannot  endure,  because  Tolstoy  can 
never  become  fashionable ;  and  you  cannot  put 
his  teachings  on  and  off  like  a  garment.  They 
grip  the  life  as  by  a  mighty  force,  and  no  mat- 
ter how  much  one  shakes  one's  head  over  them, 
and  how  much  one  lives  in  direct  opposition  to 
them,  one  can  never  quite  shake  off  the  feeling 
that,  after  all,  the  inner  life  is  of  more  value 
than  mere  adventure,  and  the  inner  joy  more 
than  what  men  call  happiness ;  and  while  most  of 
us  say  we  cannot  live  like  Tolstoy,  nearly  all  of 
us  wish  that  we  might.  One  would  scarcely  have 
thought  that  so  serious,  so  religious  a  literature 
as  Tolstoy  has  given  us  could  gain  any  foothold, 
especially  in  Europe ;  which  was  under  the  sway 
of  German  rationalism  and  French  naturalism 
and  from  whose  sphere  Christianity  in  its  severe 
aspects  was  quite  ruled  out ;  and  yet  Europe  has 

312 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

not  been  so  dominated  at  any  time  since  litera- 
ture has  been  an  art  which  touches  more  or  less 
all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  as  it  is  by  the 
writings  of  Tolstoy.  In  Russia  as  well  as  in 
other  countries  of  Europe,  men  talk  about  the 
ethics  of  Jesus  as  they  have  never  talked  before ; 
and  they  do  it  largely  under  the  influence  of  this 
great  personality.  Peter  Rosegger,  who  in  the 
Austrian  Alps  preaches  a  sane  and  sweet  reli- 
gion, and  who  lives  close  to  the  people  from  whose 
loins  he  sprang,  says:  "All  modern,  social,  and 
spiritual  movements,  even  such  as  do  not  wish 
it,  are  coming  near  to  the  Christian  ideal.  To 
live  for  others,  to  see  in  the  well-being  of  others 
one's  own  happiness,  to  help  the  weak  and  down- 
trodden, to  forgive  everything,  to  spiritualize 
science  in  order  to  find  God  in  the  truth,  are  the 
ideal  Christianity."  Nitsche's  Oversoul  has  been 
conquered  by  the  self-sacrificing  spirit  mani- 
fested by  the  peasant  of  Yasnaya.  How  much 
this  is  due  to  the  teachings  of  Tolstoy  one  can- 
not easily  say;  and  it  does  not  matter,  either 
to  him  or  to  any  lover  of  truth.  The  writer 
discussed  with  Tolstoy  this  subject;  this  phe- 
nomenon of  some  great  truth's  or  phase  of 

313 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

truth's  becoming  manifest  at  once  in  all  parts 
of  the  civilized  v/orld  and  coming  from  various 
sources.  The  Germans  call  it  "Zeitgeist/'  The 
early  Christians  called  it  "  The  Spirit  of  Truth," 
which  came  from  their  Master. 

Looking  back  over  Tolstoy's  life,  one  sees  a 
scion  of  a  wealthy  and  aristocratic  family,  ques- 
tioning the  value  of  the  attainments  of  modern 
culture  while  yet  reaching  out  after  them,  and 
beginning  to  try  to  fathom  the  great  problem  of 
the  meaning  of  life.  He  leaves  the  university, 
quite  convinced  of  the  uselessness  of  what  men 
call  science ;  and  devotes  himself  to  his  serfs, 
who  good-naturedly  take  all  that  he  gives  them 
without  showing  much  appreciation  of  his  efforts, 
or  improvement  in  their  condition.  He  enters  the 
army,  and  returns  home  disgusted  by  the  gore 
of  battle  and  the  curse  of  war.  He  writes  novels, 
but  turns  from  the  art  which  was  bom  in  him, 
as  useless  and  immoral.  He  is  repelled  by  the 
glitter  of  society,  by  its  hollowness  and  its  un- 
truthfulness. He  looks  behind  the  scenes  of  the 
stage  on  which  is  played  the  game  which  we  call 
civilization ;  but  sees  the  mask  which  the  players 
wear ;  and  knowing  that  at  heart  they  are  worse 

314 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

than  barbarians,  that  which  we  call  art  and  cul- 
ture, he  calls  stage-trappings.  Science  he  finds  to 
be  a  lie,  religion  a  superstition,  and  his  own  life 
so  empty  and  meaningless  that  he  is  ready  to 
choose  death  in  preference  to  it.  He  at  last  finds 
the  faith  that  saves  him  and  gives  meaning  to  his 
life.  He  finds  the  Christ  and  believes  in  his  words ; 
making  them  the  law  of  his  life.  He  learns  to 
love  men  and  to  love  them  regardless  of  their 
class,  nationality,  or  race;  and  in  loving  and 
serving  them  he  is  doing  the  will  of  God,  which 
is  the  chief  aim  of  his  existence.  He  gives  up 
his  wealth  and  all  those  outward  signs  of  refine- 
ment by  which  men  of  his  class  surround  them- 
selves, and  lives  that  simple,  non-resistant  life 
from  which  has  gone  out  this  world-wide  influ- 
ence. A  close  analysis  of  his  teachings  brings 
one  to  the  following  conclusions :  He  was  born 
with  a  sensitive  conscience.  It  constantly  judged 
and  accused  him  and  none  the  less  his  surround- 
ings, making  plain  to  him  always  the  contrast 
between  the  ideal  and  the  real;  consequently 
there  was  a  continual  struggle  going  on  within 
him.  To  quiet  his  conscience  and  bring  to  it  that 
peace  which  is  its  true  atmosphere  have  been  his 

315 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

endeavor  "  from  his  youth  up,"  the  theme  of  his 
writings  and  the  subject  of  his  sermons. 

He  was  accused  not  only  by  the  wrongs  which 
he  committed  but  by  the  privileges  that  he 
enjoyed  and  which  were  withheld  from  others. 
The  contrast  between  his  comfort,  his  pleasures, 
his  luxuries,  and  the  poverty  of  the  poor  was 
always  a  torture  to  him,  and  to  equalize  things 
was  his  only  desire ;  to  make  right  the  great 
wrong  practiced  by  his  class  was  his  aim  in  life. 
It  was  and  is  his  great  regret  that  he  has  but 
partially  succeeded  in  doing  so.  He  saw  in  the 
simple  life  of  the  peasant  a  step  toward  his 
ideal ;  in  his  patience,  frugality,  industry,  and 
simplicity  of  mind  he  found  the  example  he 
wished  to  follow ;  and  he  began  to  work  with  his 
hands,  to  mend  shoes,  fetch  the  water,  and  build 
brick  ovens.  Little  by  little  he  began  to  discover 
that  the  peasant's  philosophy  of  life  had  in  it  the 
germs  of  the  new  world  order,  such  as  Jesus  came 
to  establish ;  and  he  condemned  all  art  and  cul- 
ture which  did  not  stand  the  test  of  that  phi- 
losophy. He  believed  that  culture  and  science 
served  the  rich  and  the  strong,  that  they  ele- 
vated a  few  and  dragged  down  the  mass  of  men, 

316 


A  RECENT  PORTRAIT  OF  TOLSTOY 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

which  can  be  elevated  only  by  a  return  to  the 
simple  life  as  it  is  in  nature,  and  whose  laws  of 
conduct  are  established  in  the  Gospel  of  Jesus. 
In  studying  his  words  Tolstoy  found  that  non- 
resistance  toward  all  evil-doers  was  the  only  way 
of  not  being  dragged  to  their  level  and  the  only 
way  of  not  increasing  violence  among  men.  He 
believes  in  his  doctrines  because  they  are  based 
upon  his  own  experience  and  have  been  drawn 
from  the  word  of  God.  They  are  the  laws  of 
his  life.  This  gives  him  constant  courage  and  a 
never-wavering  faith  in  the  ultimate  victory  of 
his  teachings.  He  believes  that  the  Kingdom  of 
God  will  come,  and  that  it  can  come  immediately 
into  each  life  as  it  becomes  subject  to  the  law 
of  God.  There  is  in  everything  he  says  a  note 
of  exaggeration  which  comes  from  this  sensitive- 
ness of  conscience,  and  which,  has  often  made 
him  unjust  to  himself  and  to  others.  It  is  as 
difficult  to  believe  all  the  things  he  says  about 
himself,  as  it  is  difficult  to  believe  all  he  says 
about  society  as  it  is,  although  there  is  no  doubt 
that  he  means  to  see  and  to  tell  the  truth  ;  but 
as  it  is  with  men  who  are  careful  not  to  grow 
stoop-shouldered,  that  they  lean  too  far  back, 

317 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

so  he,  in  his  eagerness  to  tell  nothing  but  the 
truth,  exaggerates  and  distorts  that  truth  quite 
unconsciously.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  has 
tried  seriously  to  live  according  to  his  ideal,  and 
there  is  no  doubt  in  his  own  mind  that  he  has 
most  miserably  failed.  "  I  am  no  saint,"  he  says, 
"  and  have  never  said  that  I  am.  I  am  only  a  man 
who  is  carried  away  by  his  passion,  and  some- 
times and  maybe  always  does  not  say  just  what 
he  thinks  and  feels.  Not  because  I  do  not  wish 
to,  but  often  because  I  cannot,  and  because  I 
either  exaggerate  or  am  mistaken.  With  my 
doing  it  is  still  worse.  I  am  a  thoroughly  weak 
man  with  sinful  habits  who  desires  to  serve  the 
God  of  Truth,  but  who  constantly  stumbles.  If 
people  consider  me  a  man  who  does  not  sin  or 
make  mistakes,  then  I  must  be  a  terrible  hypo- 
crite ;  but  if  they  consider  me  a  weak  man,  then 
the  difference  between  my  words  and  my  deeds 
is  a  sign  of  weakness  and  not  a  sign  of  hypocrisy 
and  lying ;  and,  above  all,  then  I  appear  as  just 
what  I  am,  a  pitiable  but  upright  man,  who  has 
always  wished  with  his  whole  heart  to  be  a  thor- 
oughly good  man  ;  and  that  means  that  I  wished 
to  be  a  servant  of  God."   He  is  as  modest  as  he 

318 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

is  honest  and  his  fame  has  not  spoiled  him.  He 
does  not  wave  away  praise  Hke  one  who  is  sur- 
feited by  it ;  he  accepts  it  graciously  where  it  is 
honestly  given,  but  stifles  all  attempts  at  flattery 
or  semi-worship.  He  never  speaks  of  himself  as 
a  prophet  or  apostle  and  he  has  never  been  known 
to  boast  of  his  achievements ;  in  fact  he  lacks  all 
those  elements  which  have  spoiled  many  men  for 
leadership.  He  has  neither  conceit  nor  egotism. 
He  does  not  care  to  have  incense  waved  before 
him,  and  those  who  come  to  Yasnaya  for  that 
purpose  soon  find  themselves  without  occupation. 
And  yet  one  immediately  grows  conscious  of  his 
greatness ;  there  is  something  defying  analysis 
which  marks  him.  It  may  be  only  what  the  vis- 
itor brings  with  him  of  anticipation,  it  may  be 
only  the  nimbus  which  fame  weaves  around  his 
head,  and  yet  it  is  more  than  this  by  far.  It  may 
be  just  that  aristocratic  breeding  which,  in  spite 
of  himself,  surrounds  him  and  makes  him  differ- 
ent from  others  of  more  lowly  birth ;  but  if  it 
is  that,  he  has  it  in  a  larger  degree  than  any  of 
Russia's  nobility,  from  the  members  of  the  czar's 
household,  down.  It  may  be,  after  all,  the  exalt- 
edness  of  the  lowly,  of  which  his  Master  speaks, 

319 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

which  one  notices ;  a  strange,  spiritual  exalted- 
ness  which  is  not  akin  to  the  fanaticism  of  emo- 
tional religionists,  but  which  is  great  and  strong 
and  high  because  it  comes  from  above  and  has 
its  roots  deep  in  the  hearts  of  men.  Tolstoy  be- 
longs to  the  few  among  the  great  whose  glory- 
does  not  disappear  by  contact  with  them ;  in  fact 
he  is  greatest  and  noblest  at  close  range.  His 
speech  has  none  of  the  hardness  which  rings 
so  unpleasantly  in  his  writings,  his  voice  has  that 
tender  tone  which  woos  and  wins  one ;  and  al- 
though it  rings  out  defiantly  and  definitely  it 
never  grows  harsh  from  anger  or  his  words  bitter 
from  hate.  He  often  hurts  one  by  his  scrutiny 
because  he  divines  the  things  one  hides  from  him, 
or  detects  the  falsehoods  hidden  in  one's  speech. 
Perhaps  the  strangest  thing  about  his  personality 
is,  that  one  is  always  under  its  spell  after  having 
once  come  in  close  touch  with  it.  An  important 
witness  to  this  is  Mr.  Wolganoff ,  a  wealthy  mer- 
chant of  Moscow,  who  belongs  to  the  Tolstoy 
circle.  "  Since  I  have  learned  to  know  him  he 
seems  always  with  me,  and  in  all  questions  of 
life  he  gives  me  advice.  In  moments  of  spiritual 
exaltation  it  seems  to  me  as  if  he  were  with  me, 

320 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

and  would  tell  me  just  what  to  do,  and  I  have 
the  satisfaction  of  always  having  done  the  right 
thing  if  I  follow  his  advice."  Even  those  who 
come  but  to  see  in  him  a  curiosity  go  away  with 
the  touch  of  that  life  clinging  to  them,  and  more 
than  one  newspaper  reporter,  after  seeing  him, 
has  said :  "  Life  seems  a  different  thing  now." 
To  explain  all  this  one  need  not  fall  into  any  mys- 
tical speculations ;  the  life  of  the  spirit  is  the 
powerful  life  and  the  attractive  life,  and  wher- 
ever it  has  genuine  expression  through  a  man, 
there  men  will  say  :  "  It  has  been  good  for  us  to 
be  here."  But  it  is  not  a  life  which  exhales  the 
perfume  of  cloistered  holiness ;  his  piety  is  not 
musty ;  he  is  too  human,  too  active  in  earth's 
affairs ;  he  is  too  much  of  an  iconoclast  to  waste 
his  time  in  counting  beads  or  mumbling  prayers. 
He  does  more  praying  doing  God's  errands  than 
many  men  do  upon  their  knees,  begging  for  grace 
and  cake ;  and  he  does  it  at  an  expense  of  time 
and  strength  which  are  more  and  better  than  fasts 
and  long  night  vigils.  By  many  hours  of  conver- 
sation with  burdened  men,  and  by  letters  which 
fill  pages,  he  gives  advice  to  the  erring,  to  the 
perplexed,  and  to  the  weak.  It  may  seem  a  trivial 

321 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

example,  but  to  the  writer  it  seems  pertinent  and 
great  because  it  concerned  him  at  a  very  critical 
time  in  life.  He  came  to  Yasnaya  Polyana,  a  boy 
with  foolish  questionings,  a  stranger  without  a 
line  of  introduction,  troubled  by  spiritual  burdens ; 
and  this  man,  struggling  with  great  thoughts 
and  in  the  depths  of  a  personal  grief,  gave  him 
hours  in  which  he  taught  him,  and  preached  to 
him  lessons  and  sermons  which  lasted  through 
life.  More  than  once  he  gave  him  letters  of  intro- 
duction to  friends  in  Russian  cities  which  opened 
doors  into  other  rich  lives  and  made  the  usually 
unpleasant  sojourn  there  a  great  delight.  This 
was  not  done  from  any  selfish  motive ;  this  stran- 
ger in  common  with  others  had  nothing  to  give, 

—  then,  not  even  a  pen  which  might  spread  his 
praise  and  increase  his  fame ;  and  had  Tolstoy 
known  that  some  day  he  would  attempt  to  do 
this,  his  treatment  might  have  been  less  cordial 
and  his  help  less  freely  offered.  Yet  the  writer  is 
aware  that  but  few  can  have  this  personal  touch 
with  him,  and  that  neither  this  book  nor  any 
other  book  can  bring  it ;  the  mass  of  men  must 
judge  him  by  his  works  and  his  words.   His  works 

—  by  that  is  meant  his  achievements,  outside 

322 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

of  the  books  which  he  has  written  —  can  scarcely 
be  called  great,  nor  can  they  be  traced  very  defi- 
nitely by  the  historian.  Tolstoy  has  organized 
nothing,  established  nothing,  destroyed  nothing, 
built  nothing.  He  could  have  done  a  great  deal 
even  in  autocratic  Russia ;  but  he  was  too  much 
concerned  with  his  conscience,  with  gaining  his 
own  peace,  to  accomplish  what  the  world  calls  great 
things.  He  had  plans  for  relieving  distress  among 
men,  but  he  saw  the  causes  too  keenly  and  knew 
that  mere  philanthropy  was  only  a  palliative  and 
often  did  more  harm  than  good.  One  cannot  help 
criticising  him  severely  on  this  point ;  it  does  look 
as  if  he  had  slipped  from  underneath  the  burden 
very  gracefully ;  and  it  looks  like  flight,  when 
a  great  deal  might  have  been  accomplished.  He 
has  not  enough  sympathy  with  those  who  try  to 
do  their  little  in  the  world  as  it  is,  and  who  can- 
not go  anywhere  into  the  wilderness  and  organ- 
ize a  system  of  their  own.  Yet  he  had  to  see  that 
even  with  filthy  lucre,  something  can  be  done 
and  that  it  must  and  can  be  used  for  the  saving 
of  men.  His  work  of  keeping  from  starvation 
millions  of  peasants,  and  doing  it  in  a  systematic 
way,  ought  to  have  convinced  him  that  there  is 

323 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

some  good  in  money  and  in  organized  charity. 
Yet  to  the  end  he  regards  money  as  a  curse,  and 
is  happy  when  his  sons  come  to  him  and  tell 
him  of  the  cares  and  sorrows  that  it  brings ;  for 
then  like  any  ordinary  mortal  he  can  say :  "  I  told 
you  so." 

Tolstoy *s  writings  are  best  characterized  by  say- 
ing that  there  is  in  them  an  overwhelming  desire 
for  truthfulness.  This  explains  the  simple  plot 
of  his  stories,  the  naturalness  of  his  characters, 
the  absence  of  artificial  tension ;  and  it  explains 
also  his  realism,  which  to  Anglo-Saxon  readers 
is  his  least  desirable  quality.  He  never  sacrifices 
truth  to  form  or  to  good  taste ;  his  stories  are 
loosely  constructed  and  broken  into  by  his  moral- 
izings  which  ar0  no  doubt  tedious  to  readers  who 
are  anxious  to  know  whether  "they  died  or  were 
married  and  lived  happily  ever  after."  One  can- 
not persuade  him  that  he  might  have  preached 
more  convincingly  by  making  the  sermon  less 
apparent.  But  as  he  says :  "  Sometimes  one  takes 
the  pen  and  writes,  'Early  in  the  morning  Ivan 
Nikitsch  rose  and  called  his  son,'  and  suddenly 
one  says  to  himself :  'Old  man,  why  are  you  ly- 
ing? you  don't  even  know  such  a  man  as  Ivan 

324 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Nikitsch/ "  He  abandoned  the  story  only  to 
return  to  it ;  and  even  now  he  is  writing  one  in 
a  reminiscent  mood,  dealing  with  his  life  in  the 
Caucasus.  When  at  the  completion  of  his  labors 
his  memoirs  are  written,  the  critic,  whether  he 
prizes  them  or  not,  will  be  able  to  say  of  them, 
in  the  words  of  Tolstoy  himself :  "  The  hero  of 
his  stories,  whom  he  loved  with  all  his  heart, 
whom  he  tried  to  represent  in  all  his  beauty, 
and  who  always  was  and  will  remain  beautiful, 
was  — Truth." 

A  word  remains  to  be  said  about  his  theology. 
"  God  is  his  father,  all  men  are  his  brethren." 
This  is  the  whole  of  his  theological  and  socio- 
logical creed.  He  tried  hard  to  be  an  agnostic, 
and  agree  with  Confucianists,  Buddhists,  and 
atheists,  and  never  consider  the  conception  of 
God.  "But  suddenly,"  he  says,  "I  grew  to  be 
lonesome  and  fearful,  I  did  not  know  why ;  but 
I  began  to  realize  that  I  was  spiritually  degen- 
erating because  I  was  drifting  away  from  God. 
I  began  to  think  how  strange  it  is  to  say  whether 
there  is  a  God  or  not ;  and  then  it  seemed  as  if  I 
had  found  him  anew.  I  feared  that  this  assurance 
might  leave  me,  might  grow  dull;  the  main 

325 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

feature  of  this  feeling  is  that  it  gives  one  the 
consciousness  of  absolute  security,  the  knowledge 
that  God  exists,  that  he  is  good,  that  he  knows 
one,  that  I  am  part  of  him,  —  one  of  his  chil- 
dren." Tolstoy  is  an  agnostic  in  regard  to  the 
person  of  Jesus.  It  does  not  matter  to  him  who 
he  was,  whether  God  or  man ;  but  his  word  was 
divine,  it  was  the  law  of  God  revealed  through 
Jesus,  and  in  that  he  has  implicit  faith ;  greater 
faith  than  most  of  us  who  know  all  about  Christ's 
miraculous  conception  and  who  worship  him  as 
God.  Tolstoy  has  faith  enough  to  believe  that 
his  faith  is  true,  to  take  upon  himself  the  conse- 
quences of  it,  and  to  believe  in  Christ's  ultimate 
triumph.  This  is  what  he  says:  "One  more 
effort  and  the  Galilean  will  conquer ;  not  in  that 
terrible  sense  in  which  the  heathen  emperor 
prophesied  his  conquest;  but  in  the  true  sense  in 
which  he  said  of  himself  that  he  had  '  overcome 
the  world.'  He  will  conquer  in  that  simple  and 
reasonable  way,  that  if  we  have  the  courage  to 
confess  Him,  soon  all  those  persecutions  which 
come  upon  his  followers  will  cease ;  then  there 
will  be  neither  prison  nor  gallows,  neither  war 
nor  burning,  neither  poverty  nor  beggary,  under- 

326 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

neath  which  the  Christian  world  is  now  groan- 
ing." 

Tolstoy  has  brought  that  glorious  time  down 
to  himself ;  he  is  not  tortured  by  fear  of  prison, 
of  sickness,  or  of  death ;  he  is  living  in  the  mil- 
lennium and  he  says  that  we  also  may  live  so  if 
we  let  the  Kingdom  of  God  come  into  our  hearts. 
Tolstoy  is  not  the  Christ,  but  he  is  a  John  the 
Baptist ;  his  gospel  is  written  on  the  tablets  of 
Moses  ;  his  beatitudes  have  in  them  the  ring  of 
the  Ten  Commandments.  They  were  graven  by 
the  finger  of  Jehovah,  not  spoken  by  the  gentle 
Jesus.  But  his  way  of  preaching  the  gospel 
reaches  where  our  way  does  not  reach ;  his  gospel 
reaches  the  lowest,  and  brings  the  greatest  low. 
It  is  a  gospel  which  cannot  be  misunderstood ; 
it  is  as  clear  as  noonday.  It  is  a  gospel  which 
rouses  in  man  the  will,  which  awakens  the  soul, 
and  lifts  it  from  its  slumber  or  sloth  to  a  large 
life  and  to  heroic  service.  God  needs  such  men 
in  this  His  day  —  large  men  who  live  above  the 
fog ;  great  men,  ready  to  sacrifice  for  righteous- 
ness^ sake.  There  are  too  few  who  do  not  hedge 
and  halt  and  temporize,  who  dare  to  bear  the 
brunt ;  too  many  time-servers,  dust-lickers,  who 

327 


TOLSTOY  THE   MAN 

grow  like  mushrooms  in  the  shade,  and  die  like 
morning-glories  in  the  broad  sunlight ;  too  few 
of  us  who  believe  that  the  gospel  is  for  this 
time  and  forever,  and  who  are  willing  that  the 
Kingdom  of  God  should  come  within  us.  This 
is  Tolstoy's  great  cry  :  *  The  Kingdom  of  God  is 
within  you,  and  you  are  to  be  the  pattern  after 
which  the  kingdom  of  this  world  is  to  fashion 
itself/  *  Young  man/  he  said,  and  they  were 
almost  the  last  words  which  he  spoke  to  me  that 
evening:  'you  sweat  too  much  blood  for  the 
world  ;  sweat  some  for  yourself  first.  You  can- 
not make  the  world  better  till  you  are  better.' 
I  have  seen  many  a  mountain, — and  I  love 
them  all,  —  the  Jungfrau  in  her  chastity,  Mont 
Blanc  with  his  icy  collar,  the  Monk,  hooded  and 
shrouded,  —  but  there  is  one  rock  standing  alone 
above  the  village  of  Zermatt,  bride  of  the  sky, 
mother  of  life-giving  waters,  now  shrouded  in 
mystic  clouds,  now  sharp  and  clear,  standing 
between  earth  and  heaven.  It  is  the  solitary 
Matterhorn  which  I  love  best.  The  Matterhorn 
among  the  great  is  Tolstoy.  I  still  feel  resting 
upon    me    those   eyes   with    their    life-giving 

warmth ;   I  still  hear  the  mellow  voice  which 

328 


TOLSTOY  THE   MAN 

persistently  but  lovingly  said  :  '  Young  man,  you 
cannot  make  the  world  better  until  you  are 
better ; '  and  then  I  said  :  '  Good-night/  I  may 
never  again  say  to  him  *  Good-night/  but  I  trust 
that  I  shall  say,  '  Good-morning/  " 


329 


CHAPTER  XX 

TOLSTOY  AT  EIGHTY 

Again  I  have  said:  "Good-morning,"  "good- 
night," and  Httle  more.  Just  a  glimpse  of  the 
prophet  I  had,  after  his  visions  had  become  real- 
ities, as  he  knew  they  must ;  because  the  "  mouth 
of  the  Lord  had  spoken  it." 

The  long  and  bitter  revolt,  the  flaming  fires 
upon  the  plains,  the  hangman's  harvest  time, 
prisons  choked  full  of  the  best  young  life,  the 
bitter  "eye  for  eye,"  and  "  tooth  for  tooth  "... 
he  has  seen  it  all ;  and  it  was  bitter  to  see  .  .  . 
all  the  more  bitter  because  inevitable. 

Those  who  looked  to  the  East  for  salvation,  to 
autocracy,  orthodoxy,  and  narrow  nationalism,  see 
in  Tolstoy  the  cause  of  all  the  mischief  done, 
and  heap  upon  him  maledictions,  sacred  and  pro- 
fane. Punishment  has  been  dealt  out  mercilessly 
upon  all  those  who  have  spread  his  words  among 
the  people  .  .  .  words  which  called  for  a  revolu- 
tion without  force,  and  for  a  new  kingdom  with 
Christ  as  king. 

330 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Vainly  has  Tolstoy  pleaded  that  punishment 
be  meted  out  to  him  as  the  author  of  those  words, 
by  which  he  stands,  and  the  value  and  truth  of 
which  he  is  willing  to  attest  by  any  sacrifice. 

"A  man,'*  he  says,  "may  in  Russia,  incite  others 
to  beat  their  wives,  to  get  drunk,  and  to  disturb 
the  peace,  without  being  molested  ;  but  when  he 
pleads  that  men  shall  not  kill,  shall  not  commit 
adultery,  shall  keep  sober  and  labour  with  their 
hands  —  he  is  sent  to  prison."  "  Moreover,  they 
do  not  arrest  me,"  adds  the  author  of  these  words, 
"but  men  who  receive  those  words  from  me,  who 
are  only  my  agents  or  instruments,  such  men 
they  send  to  prison." 

At  eighty,  Tolstoy  challenges  the  Czar  to  be 
courageous  enough  to  touch  him,  who  will  offer 
no  resistance ;  but  the  challenge  is  not  accepted. 

Priests  upon  nearly  every  altar  hurl  against 
him  renewed  anathemas,  censors  still  confiscate 
papers  which  print  his  utterances,  he  is  sneered 
at  by  those  whom  his  words  chastise  the  most ; 
but  no  one  dares  to  touch  his  person.  All  this 
wrath  expends  itself  upon  those  lesser  folk  whose 
names  are  not  written  in  the  world's  book  of 
remembrance. 

33^ 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

At  eighty,  Tolstoy  is  still  a  fighter,  his  vision 
remains  undimmed,  and  much  of  his  natural 
strength  is  unabated.  Those  who  expected  that, 
like  his  forerunners  in  the  great  fight,  he  would 
at  the  last  repentantly  seek  refuge  in  the  Church, 
or  that  his  voice  would  grow  weak  and  tremulous 
from  age,  or  that  perhaps  it  would  end  in  a 
madman's  shriek,  are  desperately  disappointed. 
At  no  time  in  his  life  has  he  written  more  vig- 
orously. Sharp  and  clear  his  words  ring  out,  ac- 
cusing, denouncing,  condemning.  He  speaks  in 
the  purest,  most  vital,  and  universal  language, — 
the  language  of  religion.  We  all  understand 
him  now ;  although  not  all  of  us  wish  to. 

"  He  has  found  it ; "  he  said  it  long  ago,  and 
still  says  it  in  one  way  or  another,  — "the  se- 
verest, purest,  and  completest  teaching  within 
whose  sphere  all  human  activity  moves."  He 
has  found  it  in  the  Gospels.  Although  we  find 
their  teachings  too  rigidly  confined  within  a  few 
sentences  spoken  by  Jesus,  although  we  think 
Tolstoy  is  a  commentator  merciless  if  you  please, 
dogmatic  certainly,  his  interpretation  may  never- 
theless be  truer  than  that  which  balances  great 
truths  upon  exegetical  needle-points ;  while  his 

332 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

dogmatism  may  be  more  liberating  than  that 
which  makes  the  salvation  He  brought  de- 
pendent upon  well-spoken  shibboleths. 

Tolstoy  still  differs  from  us,  scientific  truth- 
seekers,  in  one  essential  thing.  We  seek  truth 
that  we  may  know  it ;  or,  to  be  more  exact,  that 
we  may  find  it.  He  seeks  truth  that  he  may  live 
it.  He  also  differs  from  many  of  us  whose  Gospel 
is  larger  than  his,  in  that  his  Gospel,  although 
small,  has  the  larger,  the  largest  application. 
His  Gospel  has  a  rigid,  strict,  and  universal  ap- 
plication, while  ours  is  diffused  in  what  we  are 
pleased  to  call  life ;  by  which  we  often  mean 
our  private  life  as  seen  by  the  public. 

Tolstoy  says  :  "  I  belong  to  God,  to  serve  Him." 
This  sounds  commonplace  enough  to  our  ears, 
attuned  to  pious  platitudes;  but  with  him  it 
means  a  "revaluing  of  values."  "  What  was  left 
now  became  right,  what  was  right  was  left." 
"  The  teachings  of  Jesus,"  he  says,  "became  most 
intelligible  to  me  and  gripped  me  hardest,  when 
I  clearly  understood  that  the  purpose  of  my  life 
lay  not  in  me,  but  in  His  will,  which  I  seek  to 
understand,  and  which  l  must  fulfil.  That  brought 
about  in  me  the  great  change." 

333 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

The  thought  which  animated  all  the  prophets 
fills  him,  too,  and  that  in  all  humility.  "  I  am 
sent  from  God/'  That  is  a  dangerous  thought, 
if  by  it  a  man  singles  himself  out  from  among 
his  fellows ;  but  with  Tolstoy  the  thought  loses 
its  danger  because  he  says :  "  We  are  all  sent 
from  God.  Man  is  an  embassador,  for  whom  this 
alone  is  of  importance ;  namely,  that  he  deliver 
his  message,  and  he  must  consider  it  of  no  im- 
portance what  men  think  about  him." 

To  this  day  Tolstoy  has  retained  the  courage 
which  such  a  thought  brings,  the  happiness  which 
is  sure  to  come  from  acting  upon  it,  and  the  will- 
ingness to  bear  all  the  consequences.  I  have  al- 
ready emphasized  Tolstoy's  modesty,  —  I  wish  to 
emphasize  it  again. 

It  has  been  my  lot  in  life  to  be  much  in  touch 
with  public  men  of  all  degrees  of  prominence ; 
I  have  also  been  often  with  the  men  who  served 
as  their  biographers  or  critics.  I  have  learned  to 
know  the  weaknesses  of  such  public  characters, 
and  I  have  also  seen  how  their  satellites  often 
used  those  weaknesses  to  their  own  advantage. 
For  nearly  all  cases  vanity  was  the  chief  weak- 
ness, and  the  offering  of  incense  was  the  surest 

334 


TOLSTOY  THE   MAN 

way  of  approach  to  one's  deity.  It  is  true  that 
the  incense  had  to  be  stronger  for  one  than  for 
another,  and  at  times  had  to  be  unscented  ;  but 
incense  was  still  the  "  open  sesame,"  and  often 
even  to  the  sternest  and  most  earnest  heart. 

One  can  say  of  Tolstoy  at  eighty  :  "  For  of  such 
is  the  kingdom  of  Heaven."  He  would  be  a  weak 
man,  indeed,  had  he  never  known  just  pride,  that 
elation  of  spirit  which  comes  from  a  word  of 
praise  ;  but  in  the  thought :  "  I  have  been  an  em- 
bassador ;  my  business  was  to  deliver  the  mes- 
sage, regardless  of  what  men  think  of  me," — 
in  that  thought  his  pride  was  crushed,  and  after 
much  struggle  he  has  gained  the  victory.  No 
one  could  have  remained  more  modest  than 
he,  under  the  stream  of  congratulations  show- 
ered upon  him  on  his  eightieth  birthday,  and 
no  one  could  have  lived  more  unconsciously 
under  the  criticism  let  loose  upon  him  by  his 
enemies. 

It  does  not  matter  that  they  call  him  "Atheist, 
Pantheist,  Nihilist,  Antichrist ; "  nor  that  mul- 
titudes have  declared  him  their  savior  and 
prophet.  "I  am  but  an  embassador."  And  what 
is  most  significant,  he  puts  his  thumb  and  finger 

335 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

on  the  lapel  of  one's  coat  and  says,  sternly  al- 
most :  "and  you  ought  to  be." 

Inasmuch  as  Tolstoy  on  his  eightieth  birth- 
day was  renewedly  declared  from  the  pulpits  of 
Russia  an  atheist,  and  because  this  thought  is 
gaining  ground,  even  among  those  of  us  who  have 
unconsciously  felt  in  him  a  spiritual  kinsman,  yet 
now  fear  to  claim  this  kinship,  it  will  be  worth 
while  to  ask  him  a  few  fundamental  questions. 
We  can  in  this  way  discover  how  closely  we  still 
are  related  to  him,  whom  I  should  call  the  most 
truly  religious  person  of  our  age. 

"What  is  God?"  Tolstoy's  answer  lies  hidden 
in  this  little  parable,  a  literary  material  in  the  use 
of  which  he  is  a  master.  In  a  coffee-house  in 
Surate,  a  city  in  Sudra,  people  of  different  na- 
tionalities came  together,  quite  accidentally. 
Naturally  they  began  to  quarrel  about  religion. 
A  Chinaman  who  sat  quietly  drinking  his  tea 
was  asked  to  give  his  views,  and  he  told  the  fol- 
lowing story :  — 

"  The  steamer  on  which  I  came  stopped  off  at 
Sumatra,  and  there  a  quarrel  about  the  Sun  arose 
between  the  sailors  and  the  natives.  One  slave 
said  :  '  What  the  Sun  is,  I  do  not  know ;  but  what 

336 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

light  is  I  know,  for  I  made  myself  a  night-lamp 
and  it  shines  for  me/ 

"  *  But  I  know  the  Sun/  said  another.  *  It  is  a 
fireball  which  rises  out  of  the  ocean  and  disap- 
pears behind  the  mountains  of  this  island/ 

" '  No/  declared  a  third, '  the  Sun  does  not  sink 
behind  this  island.  It  goes  down  again  into  the 
sea.' 

"  *  Impossible ! '  cried  a  Hindoo ;  *  the  sun  cannot 
be  a  fireball,  else  it  would  be  quenched  by  the  sea.' 

"'I  know  better  than  all  of  you,'  vociferated 
still  another  ;  '  the  Sun  sets  behind  the  British 
Islands  and  rises  in  Japan,  which  is  therefore 
called  the  "  Land  of  the  Rising  Sun." ' 

"Another  interrupted:  *I  have  travelled 
around  the  whole  Earth ;  yet  I  have  never  touched 
the  Sun.  It  travels  high  above  the  Earth  and 
around  it.' 

"  The  man  who  began  the  dispute  was  a  native 
who  had  spent  many  years  studying  what  the 
Sun  was,  and  who  for  that  purpose  had  caught  a 
few  rays  in  a  bottle. 

"'It  is  not  spirit,'  he  said;  'because  we  can 
see  it ;  body  it  is  not,  because  it  cannot  be  moved ; 
consequently,  it  must  be  nothing.' 

337 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

"  But  as  he  had  looked  so  long  into  the  Sun,  the 
poor  fellow  had  grown  blind ;  so,  of  course,  he  was 
sure  that  the  Sun  was  nothing. 

"At  last  the  company  turned  to  the  steersman 
and  asked  him  for  a  decision.  He  replied  :  *  The 
Sun  does  not  turn  around  the  Earth  ;  but  the 
Earth  with  many  planets  turns  around  the  Sun. 
You  would  comprehend  that  if  you  once  looked 
up  into  the  Heavens,  and  not  always  under  your 
own  feet.  Then  no  one  would  imagine  that  the 
Sun  shines  only  for  him  and  in  his  country.' " 

This  parable  is  closely  related  to  Lessing's 
now  historic  story  of  the  "  Three  Rings,"  which 
for  a  long  time  served  as  a  sort  of  Magna  Charta 
of  religious  tolerance ;  but  Tolstoy's  is  supe- 
rior to  Lessing's,  because  more  true  to  life,  and 
because  it  is  positively  religious. 

To  know  God,  w6  must,  according  to  Tolstoy, 
renounce  reason.  We  must  know  God  through 
experience. 

"  Every  attempt  to  define  God  separates  me 
from  Him,  and  when  I  speak  of  Him  as  He  it 
makes  Him  smaller." 

Again,  Tolstoy  reminds  us  of  Lessing  when  he 
says :    "  If  I  could  comprehend  Him   I  should 

338 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

attain  to  Him,  and  then  I  should  have  nothing 
for  which  to  struggle." 

"  We  know  God  only  by  our  feeling  of  abso- 
lute dependence  upon  Him." 

Tolstoy  is  certainly  as  orthodox  as  Schleir- 
macher,  whom  no  one  ever  called  an  atheist, 
and  whom  but  few  would  even  call  heterodox. 

It  is  true  that,  in  his  thought  of  God,  Tol- 
stoy moves  between  Atheism  and  Pantheism, 
coming  dangerously  near  the  latter,  and  for  this 
there  are  certain  causes.  First  of  all,  the  ab- 
sentee God  as  preached  by  the  Church  was  re- 
pellent to  his  feelings,  and  was  to  him  a  gross 
superstition  ;  second,  he  had  the  mystic's  de- 
sire to  know  God,  not  outwardly,  but  to  be 
united  to  Him  inwardly ;  thirdly,  his  acquaint- 
ance with  Buddhism,  which  knew  nothing  of  a 
personal  God.  He  longed  to  know  religion  from 
such  a  height  that  all  differences  between  the 
various  teachings  would  disappear. 

A  confession  of  this  point  made  in  his  later 
years  is  very  interesting  and  certainly  illuminat- 
ing:— 

"  The  devil  tempted  me,  and  I  thought  that  it 
would  be  possible,  and  also  of  great  importance, 

339 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

to  ignore  entirely  the  conception  of  God  as  a 
father,  and  thus  unite  the  Chinese,  Confucion- 
ists  and  Buddhists,  as  well  as  the  Atheists  and 
Agnostics. 

"  Strange  to  say,  however,  I  suddenly  felt  lone- 
ly, apprehensive,  and  guilty.  I  did  not  know  why ; 
but  I  felt  myself  spiritually  lowered  and  was  not 
capable  of  any  kind  of  real  intellectual  gladness 
or  energy.  Only  then  did  I  realize  that  this  was 
because  I  had  separated  myself  from  God. 

"Then  I  began  to  think :— I  speculated  whether 
there  is  one  God  or  no  God,  and  then  I  felt  as 
if  I  had  found  Him  anew.  I  felt  happy  at  that 
I  rooted  myself  in  Him  and  in  the  strong  convic- 
tion that  I  could  have  intercourse  with  Him,  that 
I  must  have  it,  and  that  He  hears  me. 

"I  felt  as  happy  after  that  as  if,  having  been 
at  the  point  of  losing  the  dearest  friend,  I  had 
not  lost  him,  but  suddenly  recognized  his  su- 
preme value." 

"  In  this  life,''  Tolstoy  says  again,  "  I  can  fall 
nowhere  but  to  Him,  and  in  Him  are  complete 
happiness  and  salvation." 

"Everything  which  I  regard  as  bad  is  bad  be- 
cause I  believe  myself  and  not  Him." 

340 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Certainly,  this  is  not  atheism,  and  it  is  more, 
than  Pantheism. 

Some  of  us,  at  least,  believe  with  Tolstoy  that 
the  term  person  is  insufficient  when  applied  to 
God,  and  also  that,  when  we  define  Him  most 
clearly,  we  are  furthest  away  from  Him  and 
know  Him  the  least. 

If  we  were  to  continue  our  catechism  further 
I  should  ask  Tolstoy  the  question  asked  of  me 
about  him :  "  Do  you  believe  in  prayer  ?  "  This 
would  be  an  answer,  if  not  the  answer. 

"  In  prayer  to  God  I  realized  that  God  is  like 
a  real  being,  that  He  is  love,  which  represents 
the  all  whose  hem  I  touch  in  the  form  of  love. 
This  is  not  a  mere  emotion,  nothing  abstract,  but 
a  Being  who  is  real,  and  I  felt  or  touched  God. 

"  I  always  feel  terribly  lonely  when  I  am  with- 
out God,  and  am  quiet  only  when  I  am  with 
God." 

Just  how  Tolstoy  prays  is  a  secret,  and  by  not 
permitting  us  to  enter  into  his  "  Holy  of  Holies  " 
he  is  unquestionably  nearer  the  teachings  of 
Jesus  than  are  those  of  us  who  are  anxious  to  be 
seen  in  the  "  chief  seats  of  the  synagogues,"  and 
to  be  heard  for  our  "  much  speaking." 

341 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Perhaps  the  next  question  usually  asked  is, 
"  Does  Tolstoy  believe  in  the  immortality  of  the 
soul?" 

Some  two  years  ago,  I  blunderingly  asked  that 
question  of  him  as  we  walked  across  the  stubble- 
fields  of  Yasnaya  Polyana.  There  was  no  one 
answer,  but  there  were  many  answers,  and  not 
one  of  them  was  clear  and  unqualified;  while 
some  of  them  were  contradictory. 

"  Your  personality  is  only  a  shovel  with  which 
to  dig,  which  you  must  dull  and  use ;  not  keep 
clean  and  save. 

"  Your  personality  will  cease.  Before  this  life 
you  were  as  nothing ;  so  little  will  you  be  after 
this  life." 

Such  an  answer  is  disappointing,  and  I  told 
him  so. 

"What  do  you  regret  at  the  thought  of  death? 
Your  body  you  have  lost  a  great  many  times ; 
but  your  consciousness  has  not  ceased  chang- 
ing. 

"  Jesus  has  never  affirmed  the  resurrection  of 
the  body,  or  the  immortality  of  personality." 

When  we  disagree  with  Tolstoy,  other  thoughts 
come  to  the  surface,  as  for  instance  :  "  He  that 

342 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

has  given  his  Hfe  to  loving  can  never  give  room 
to  the  thought  that  life  can  be  annihilated.  The 
onward  movement  of  life  cannot  be  stopped  be- 
cause a  man  gets  an  ulcer  or  bacteria  lodge  in 
his  system,  or  because,  perchance,  a  pistol-shot  is 
fired  at  him/' 

Perhaps  Tolstoy's  thoughts  about  immortality 
can  best  be  thus  summarized  :  — 

"  God  is  life.  There  can  be  no  death  for  him 
who  lives  in  God ;  therefore,  that  which  seems 
to  us  death,  is  merely  a  larger  union  with  God. 
That  larger  union  with  God,  however,  cannot  be 
a  mere  stationary  immortality,  but  a  constant 
uniting  or  completing  in  God." 

I  am  sure  that  we  shall  better  understand 
Tolstoy's  attitude  toward  immortality,  or  toward 
the  survival  of  personality,  when  we  remember 
that  his  whole  endeavor  is  to  realize  his  reli- 
gious ideals  in  the  present,  and  that,  after  all,  he 
is  not  much  concerned  about  the  future,  that  he 
is  never  dogmatic  about  it,  and  often  contradic- 
tory. 

His  religious  philosophy  is  often  crude ;  but 
nearly  always  grows  out  of  his  religious  expe- 
rience. It  is  not  so  much  my  purpose  to  elucidate 

343 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

it,  as  to  discover  if  possible  our  kinship  with  him. 
It  will  be  best  for  my  purpose  to  keep  in  mind 
the  man  Tolstoy,  rather  than  the  philosopher. 
How  then  does  he  try  to  realize  his  highest  reli- 
gious ideals, — that  is,  how  is  man  to  live  after 
the  spirit  and  not  after  the  flesh,  which  is  fun- 
damental in  his  practice  of  life? 

"  The  men  who  live  after  the  flesh,"  Tolstoy 
says,  "  are  like  the  bear  which  pushes  back  the 
cudgel  hanging  over  the  honey,  and  the  cudgel, 
falling,  kills  him." 

"Those  who  seek  the  satisfaction  of  their 
fleshly  desires  are  tortured  by  the  fear  of  death ; 
they  are  afraid  of  God  whom  they  wish  to  deny, 
and  in  their  heart  burns  the  flame  of  despair." 

It  is  true  that  Tolstoy  gives  us  here  the  expe- 
rience of  his  past  life  ;  but  in  that  experience 
we  are  surely  his  kinsmen,  more  or  less  closely 
related. 

It  seems  childish  to  the  theoretic  philosopher 
when  Tolstoy  tells  us  that  not  to  live  after  the 
flesh  means  to  abstain  from  the  use  of  alcohol, 
meat,  and  tobacco ;  not  to  indulge  in  aesthetic 
inebriation,  such  as  is  produced  by  certain  forms 
of  plastic  and  pictorial  art  and  by  the  stage. 

344 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Yet,  childish  and  puritanic  as  this  may  seem, 
his  aim  is  neither  childish  nor  narrow ;  for  he 
says :  "  Remove  out  of  your  life  everything  which 
clouds  your  consciousness  ;  struggle  with  all  your 
power  and  in  everything  for  the  mastery  over 
the  flesh." 

It  is  Tolstoy's  practice  to  teach  the  truth  and 
to  declare  it.  He  says :  "  The  only  purpose  of 
man  is  to  recognize  truth,  and  to  confess  or  de- 
clare the  truth  revealed  to  him.  Nothing  good 
can  come  out  of  all  the  striving  of  humanity 
after  perfection  if  men  will  not  speak  the  truth." 
And,  again,  "  Nothing  but  good  can  come  if  we 
cling  to  the  truth." 

I  have  repeatedly  emphasized  the  impression 
which  Tolstoy  always  makes  upon  me  as  a  man 
who  radiates  this  truth.  Whatever  men  may  see 
or  not  see  in  him,  this  is  self-evident  to  the  man 
who  has  any  kind  of  moral  perception :  that 
Tolstoy  is  a  truth-seeker  and  one  who  declares 
the  truth  ;  even  if  to  us  it  may  not  always  seem 
that  what  he  brings  is  the  truth. 

"Make  your  conscience  more  receptive  and 
more  tender  towards  truth,"  he  said.  "Do  no- 
thing which  your  conscience  will  condemn,  speak 

345 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

nothing  which  does  not  agree  with  the  truth,  and 
you  will  fulfil  your  whole  purpose  of  life." 

"  Sailor,  guide  your  ship  according  to  the  com- 
pass ;  that  little  hand,  a  thousand  times  smaller 
than  the  ship, — but  do  not  guide  it  after  the 
ships  around  you,  nor  even  after  the  stars. 
Everything  is  deceptive,  except  that  which  is  in 
you." 

What,  to  my  mind,  makes  Tolstoy's  religious 
philosophy  still  more  comprehensive  is  his  em- 
phasis upon  the  sacredness  of  the  present. 

^^Now  is  the  accepted  time?"  he  calls  out, 
with  great  stress  upon  the  now, 

"  Now  is  the  day  of  salvation  !  "  with  still 
more  emphasis  upon  the  first  word.  "  Man  must 
save  all  his  power  for  this  present  hour  as  the 
only  one  in  which  he  is  to  fulfil  the  word  of 
God." 

"  Every  hour  is  an  hour  of  grace." 

"  We  must  forget  everything  except  the  fur- 
row we  are  drawing." 

"  There  is  no  love  far  in  the  future." 

"  The  man  who  does  not  manifest  love  now, 
has  no  love." 

In  his  "Tales  for  the  People,"  which  are 
346 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

among  his  greatest  artistic  achievements,  be- 
cause of  their  simplicity  or  in  spite  of  it,  Tol- 
stoy tells  of  two  old  men,  one  rich  and  one  poor, 
who  for  a  long  time  had  planned  to  make  a 
pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem.  The  poor  man  was 
always  ready,  but  the  rich  man  found  time  only 
after  his  earthly  affairs  were  all  satisfactorily 
adjusted. 

Finally,  the  two  started  for  Jerusalem.  On 
the  way,  the  poor  man  stops  at  a  house  to  ask 
for  a  drink  of  water,  and  finds  there  so  much 
misery  and  poverty  that  he  remains  there, 
nurses  the  sick  father  of  the  family,  helps  to 
gather  the  harvest,  uses  all  his  time  and  money, 
and  has  to  return  to  his  village  without  having 
visited  the  sepulchre  of  the  Lord.  The  rich  man 
goes  to  Jerusalem  and  sees  in  vision  closest  to 
the  sepulchre  his  poor  companion  ;  but  upon  his 
return  home  discovers  that  his  partner  had  not 
been  in  Jerusalem,  having  spent  all  his  time  and 
money  in  caring  for  a  wretched  family.  Then 
the  rich  man  saw  clearly  that  love  is  better  than 
sacrifice,  and  that  if  we  give  a  "  cup  of  cold 
water  in  His  name,  unto  the  least  of  His  chil- 
dren, we  do  it  unto  Him." 

347 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

Back  of  all  Tolstoy's  religious  striving  is  the 
realization  of  his  religious  ideals,  now, 

"  If  all  men  would  live  according  to  the  teach- 
ings of  Jesus,  then  the  kingdom  of  God  would  be 
upon  the  earth." 

"  Yes ;  but  all  men  do  not,  will  not,  cannot ; " 
we  reply,  —  and  he  answers  :  "  but  I  can,  I  will, 
I  must." 

"There  is  a  fire  in  a  circus, — all  push  to  the 
door  which  opens  toward  the  inside.  A  man  calls 
out, '  go  back  !  the  more  you  push,  the  less  chance 
you  have  of  getting  out !  turn  around  and  you 
will  find  the  way  to  safety  !  * 

"Whether  many  have  heard  his  cries,  or  I 
alone,  what  does  it  matter  ?  All  I  can  do  and 
must  do  is  to  hear  the  voice  of  the  Saviour  and 
call  to  all  men  to  follow  His  leading.  If  I  am 
crushed  and  killed  by  the  mob,  what  does  even 
that  matter  if  thus  I  find  salvation  ?  " 

"  One  swallow  does  not  make  a  summer  ;  but 
shall  the  swallow,  which  feels  the  beating  of  the 
coming  spring,  wait  for  others  and  not  spread  her 
wings  ?  On  this  wise  the  summer  would  never 


come." 


This  really  is  the  central  point  of  Tolstoy's 
348 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

religious  life,  with  which  he  tries  to  harmonize 
everything, — to  realize  now  the  Divine  ideal  and 
to  become  one  with  God.  Far  above  all  contro- 
versy is  the  method  by  which  he  wishes  to  realize 
this. 

"The  future  may,  perhaps  must,  be  hidden 
from  man,"  he  says,  "  because  it  is  eternal.  The 
next  thing,  that  which  man  can  achieve,  is  the 
penetration,  or  rather,  the  permeation,  of  all 
things  by  love  ;  the  changing  of  all  evil  into  good, 
through  love." 

"  In  such  a  service,  one's  life  receives  a  mean- 
ing, the  only  possible  meaning  which  is  rational, 
joyous,  and  which  cannot  be  destroyed  by  death." 

"  Love  your  enemy,  and  everything  which  hid 
his  soul  from  you  will  disappear ;  for  at  the  bot- 
tom of  that  soul,  as  through  clear  water,  you  will 
see  the  divine.  Then  you  will  not  need  to  offer 
forgiveness  to  any  one  except  to  yourself ;  be- 
cause you  did  not  love  God  in  your  enemy  in 
whom  He  was,  and  whom  you  did  not  see,  because 
you  did  not  love,^^ 

"  All  these  latter  days,  especially  yesterday," 
Tolstoy  said,  "I  was  occupied  by  the  thought 
that  the  aim  of  life  is  to  do  only  one  thing,  that 

349 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

which  the  Heavenly  Father  does,  —  to  love  and 
to  be  guided  by  love,  in  the  moments  of  greatest 
strength  and  greatest  weakness."  "  No  teaching," 
he  continued,  "  has  so  demonstrated  itself  to  me 
through  experience  as  this ;  that  the  aim  of  life 
is  the  multiplying  or  enlarging  of  the  domain  of 
love.  So  long  as  I  have  thus  thought  and  acted 
I  have  always  been  happy. 

"  Love,  however,  consists  not  in  feeling ;  but 
in  courageous  deeds.  Love  is  the  giving  of  time 
and  strength  and  life  to  others." 

This  love  makes  all  ill  good,  and  explains  to 
Tolstoy  the  problem  of  suffering. 

"God  holds  us  by  the  bit,  as  we  do  a  horse, 
and  we  can  tell  by  the  pain  if  we  do  not  go  where 
we  should." 

"  Suffering,  my  own  suffering,  brings  to  my 
mind  the  errors  of  humanity  and  shows  me  where 
I  have  to  work." 

Over  and  over  again,  I  have  had  to  hear  that 
Tolstoy  is  not  a  Christian  because  he  does  not  be- 
lieve in  salvation.  Certainly  not,  as  defined  by 
the  Greek  Church,  or  perhaps  by  any  historic 
church ;  not  in  a  salvation  through  any  historic 
event,  but  a  salvation  through  an  inner  experi- 

350 


TOLSTOY  THE   MAN 

ence ;  not  a  salvation  from  sin,  but  a  salvation 
from  all  indecision  and  doubt,  all  fear  and  hate, 
all  narrow  patriotism. 

He  says  that  he  is  saved  through  Christ. 
Whether  or  not  I  agree  with  him  when  it  comes  to 
definitions,  of  this  I  am  sure  :  that  his  salvation 
is  real,  and  to  him  vital,  that  it  has  changed  the 
current  of  his  life,  that  it  has  curbed  his  temper, 
controlled  his  appetites,  and  killed  worldly  pride. 

Moreover,  his  salvation  and  his  way  of  being 
saved  have  proved  contagious,  and  above  all  effi- 
cacious to  others.  What  is  behind  all  this  I  know 
not  and  care  not.  I  have  looked  again  into  his 
life  and  more  than  ever  realize  how  closely  related 
he  is  to  that  which  I  would  realize  in  my  own 
life  now,  and  have  never  succeeded  in  realizing. 

To  seek  truth  and  speak  it ;  to  strive  for  the 
highest  life  and  in  a  measure  attain  it ;  to  love 
and  make  that  love  active  in  one's  own  life  and 
in  the  life  of  others ;  to  draw  truth  and  life  and 
love  from  Jesus  ;  if  that  does  not  mean  that  Tol- 
stoy not  only  believes  in  salvation  but  has  it  —  at 
least  that  salvation  of  which  we  know  something, 
and  which  is  worth  having  —  then  I  have  never 
seen  a  saved  man. 

351 


TOLSTOY  THE   MAN 

After  all,  I  am  not  concerned  as  to  whether  we 
believe  him  to  possess  any  kind  of  salvation  or 
not ;  I  am  sure  that  he  has  lived  himself  into 
this  age  as  has  no  other  religious  personality  of 
his  generation. 

His  word  is  still  mighty  in  Russia,  and  will 
prove  more  mighty  when  the  next  generation 
makes  pilgrimages  to  his  grave.  Nor  will  com- 
ing generations,  which  may  possess  the  blessing 
of  a  new  and  true  civilization,  forget  him  or 
his  words ;  for  they  have  been  words  which 
worked  for  liberty  —  true  liberty  —  and  for  a 
real  civilization. 

If  coming  generations  do  not  call  him  their 
prophet,  they  will  call  him  their  conscience  ;  and 
men  have  always  needed  the  latter  more  than 
the  former. 

Among  us,  too,  he  will  live ;  for  if  he  has  not 
been  conscience  to  us,  he  has  at  least  prodded  our 
conscience  for  us,  has  driven  us  from  behind  our 
bulwarks  of  hard  and  fast  creeds  and  mild  and 
few  deeds  of  charity,  and  has  made  us  see  that 
we  are  but  playing  at  Christianity. 

We  may  with  justice  call  him  narrow,  blind  to 
the  good  in  our  temples  and  our  civilization ;  but 

352 


TOLSTOY  THE  MAN 

it  takes  a  blind  Samson  to  shake  the  pillars  of 
our  temples  and  at  least  show  us  their  weakness, 
—  even  if  the  roof  break  not  over  us. 

Tolstoy  has  caused  some  of  us  to  say  with 
himself :  "  I  do  not  wish  to  live  in  imagination, 
but  in  reality ;  and  the  only  reality  is  the  will  of 
God." 

Once  more,  then,  I  take  his  hand,  still  strong, 
to  feel  its  life. 

Once  more  I  look  into  his  eyes  to  see  the  truth 
which  he  has  seen  and  which  he  has  spoken  as 
he  saw  it. 

Once  more  I  listen  to  his  voice  to  hear  love 
speak ;  for  he  has  not  only  its  accents  but  its 
substance. 

"  I  have  lived  now  many  happy  years,  and  in 
that  happiness  I  face  death." 


353 


TE 


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